


Apparent

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU, Alternative political structures, Explicit Sexual Content, King Kylo, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Minor (pre fic) deaths, Political Intrigue, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the previous King of Naboo dies, General Hux is left looking after the new would-be-monarch. The new would-be-monarch, who really doesn't want to rule. Will the planet crash and burn under Kylo's care? How will Naboo hold her own in a galaxy increasingly anti-royalist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Succession

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I have completely redone the political structure of Naboo. It's an AU.

Of all the things Hux thought he’d have to do today, dealing with this was possibly the furthest from his mind when he’d risen to perform his ablutions and step into his uniform at the crack of dawn. He needed no alarm: his body was tuned to precision by long use, and so he went about his routine as he did on every other day. Unlike every other day, though, his comm unit wouldn’t stop flashing silently and judgingly up at him as he shaved. His staff knew not to interrupt him unless it truly was urgent, so he relented and gestured at it with one shaving-cream flecked finger in order to project the information as a blue overlay to the mirror.

He nearly cut his throat.

_The King is dead._

That was the subject line. They hadn’t even bothered with the protocol in the message: no code-words to stand in for the (apparently late) royal personage, no pre-arranged concealment to the message. Which meant either someone in his entourage was about to receive the bollocking of their life, or else it was common knowledge.

Razor still in hand, one cheek scraped bald and the other soaped in readiness, he flicked and barked commands and his bathroom mirror became an impromptu nexus of information. A summary of scrolling subject lines, a small video feed from the major galactic news, a flurry of meeting requests and above all a cry for his assistance.

The King had died less than an hour ago. Hux scraped his face fully clean at the same time as dictating the most urgent replies, and forewarning his skycar driver of his intended destination. 

The King was dead. The planet of Naboo was in mourning.

And Hux had to get to work.

***

The capital – Theed – was in a state of chaos, to put it politely. Hux had never seen so many people fall apart so fast, so many people who were usually so _together_. Or, relatively so, at least. Meetings devolved to hands slammed into desks, into voices raised so high it hurt the ear, into insults thrown that would never be properly retracted. 

Quite how no one had planned for this contingency was beyond him. It wasn’t unheard of for people to die. In fact, it was more unheard of for them _not to_. But no one had bothered to ask what would happen if Luke Skywalker died whilst still an unmarried, heirless man. Admittedly he was – had been – only relatively young at forty-two. Still young enough to marry, though Hux had doubted the man had ever planned on it. He’d never had any paramour, not to his knowledge, and some people just... didn’t. 

Which would be why he thought the political aides might have discussed the situation with him. And when they told him that they thought the _military_ should have included this in _their_ contingencies, he’d laughed.

What the Late Great Luke Skywalker did with his penis (or did not do, apparently) was hardly a matter of military strategy.

Perhaps it should have been.

Eventually a consensus was reached, and a delegation of bearded and grey-tinged men and women (sans beards) duly elected a small delegation to proclaim the news. 

Hux hadn’t let them go without proper security. He couldn’t face another ridiculous screaming match over genealogies. He could imagine little worse.

***

On the roof, under the sun. He regretted briefly having given up smoking some time ago, because it would provide something for his fingers and mouth to do right now. As it was, he stood under the glow of a foreign star and wondered how long the discussions would take.

It was not a military matter. Still. He’d only come to protect the crusty advisors (who had no doubt got their positions because of their parents, and whose advice was about as useful as putting options into a random number generator, and potentially better expressed) and the new sovreign. When they convinced him to come back to Naboo. 

Where he hadn’t been in at least seven years. Maybe longer. Hux had been barely more than a child, then, and not old enough to fully comprehend the scandals that blared over the news. He remembered them dying down, and later put two and two together. The King’s sister – Leia – with her troubled marriage and troubled husband and troubled son had been sent to be someone else’s trouble. 

But now they had to come begging and scraping. Hux didn’t envy the career relatives their job, one to which perhaps they were expressly qualified, for once. After all, the blue-blooded aristocracy were all much of a muchness, weren’t they? One last scan of the horizon (old habits) for danger spots, and he closed his eyes to bask.

He did not get long. A door opened and shortly after came a tumble of fury and hair. Hux’s hand went to his hip automatically as he turned to face the other, even though the whole building was supposed to be secure. The man was young – perhaps not so far off Hux’s own age – but he was dressed scruffily and with little care for his appearance. Mad, dark hair that tumbled down to touch his shoulders, clothes that covered him almost head to toe in lines that _could not sit right_. He appeared to have a normal, Human frame, but the clothes eschered off him weirdly. He was pale, with eyes that met his in confusion, and then annoyance.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Hux replied, as calmly as he could. Which was to say: _not very_ , but at least he kept his anger to precise, clipped units of sound.

“You don’t know? Surprised they let you into the building.” The man walked straight past him and to the edge of the roof.

The roof. Which was at least twenty storeys from ground level, if not more. The roof which had no barrier, and which the idiot could fling himself from. Or, you know. _Trip_.

Be pushed.

“Obviously I don’t.”

“Well, I don’t know you, either, so I guess we’re even.” The man had now taken to holding his arms out like a tightrope walker, putting his overly long feet one before the other. “I assume you came with the morons.”

“If that’s what you’re calling Naboo’s political elite, then yes.”

“...‘Political elite’?” The scorn dripped from his tone, and he tossed that dark hair away from his eyes and glowered back at him. “That what they’re calling themselves?”

“Well, they’re the senior aides and—”

“To whom?”

Whom? Hux was surprised a scruffy man like this would make such a precise linguistic point over this, and correctly, too. Of course, he could just be mocking the delegation and accidentally hitting on the right term, but... “Who are you, anyway?”

“Apparently I’m the King of Naboo.”

Well. Fuck. 

***

“Ah.”

“Ah? No: ‘I’m sorry, your Highness’? Or do you call me something else before the coronation? It’s been so fucking long I can’t remember all the protocol.” The man – Kylo? – jumped down onto the roof proper, and dropped down to sit on his ass on the ledge. 

It was, at least, a little safer than his previous position. Hux realised he’d entertained treasonous thoughts of pushing the King-to-be over the edge, and ensuring Naboo really _did_ fall into despair. Although, if this was their best hope of stability? The planet was **fucked**. Really fucked. And he was beginning to wonder why he’d felt some strange civic duty to his planet of birth for so long, because it was clearly one bad haircut away from imploding. 

“Pretty sure you had honorifics before that remain in place.” Which, of course, Hux knew. “You’re not actually the King until the ceremony.”

Kylo nodded at the door he’d come from. “Try telling them that.” 

“I doubt they’d listen to me.”

“Or to me, and I’m apparently their monarch. Which is dumb. I mean, they should just make my mother the Queen. She’d like that.” 

“The way I understand it, when she married Solo – your father – it was under the proviso that she’d abdicate any future claim to the throne.”

“Yeah, but that should invalidate me, too.”

“Well, she only made the declaration about her own claim.” Or so they’d said, at the end of all the arguing. “So you win by default. By a loophole.”

“Great. So they can find another one where I can give it up, too, and give it to someone else.”

“That’s not how the kingdom works.” Hux frowned. He’d heard in depth how they couldn’t currently find any closer, living relative to the Skywalker line. “If you want to abdicate, you’d ruin everything.”

“So?”

“So?” He couldn’t believe it. Or – no. He could. People who had never had to _work_ for their success were all the same. “So you’ll ruin a whole planet for... what? Spite? Idleness?”

“Why the fuck should I care about Naboo? It’s not like it’s ever done anything for me.” Now Kylo had his knees drawn up towards his chest, his chin dropped on them, arms hugging them to his body in a defensive ball.

“Because it’s the planet that you were born on. Because it’s the planet of your family. Because if you don’t come back and act like an adult, then a lot of people’s lives will be ruined. It’s not like they’re asking you to fight on the front lines of a war, is it?”

“No, might be nicer if they did. They’re asking me to turn into one of them: the dull, lifeless people. No heart, no soul...” Kylo huffed noisily, rising all at once. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said.

Hux did not get a chance to reply. The door opened, and the Princess Leia Solo stood there, shadowed by her own entourage.

“Kylo. We have to pack and leave.”

Hux watched as the tall man and his short mother communicated only with their eyes. Eventually, Kylo shook his head and walked past her.

The soldier nodded politely to the Heir Apparent’s mother, and decided he should probably go back inside, too.

***

“You’re wanted on the Royal Transport, Sir.”

“...why?”

“Your presence was requested to consult on military matters.”

Hux didn’t know why this was really needed. His role was – sadly – mostly a ceremonial one these days. Naboo – indeed the galaxy – had seen a period of relative stability once the final resistance to the Republic had been defeated. 

Of course, there were always threats: some domestic, some international. Mostly not of outright _war_ , but certainly of uncivil behaviour. Every year it seemed he had to justify his very existence to some bean counter or another, citing the prosperity and security as evidence of his _worth_ , not his _obsolescence_. But old King Luke had been very much more interested in socio-cultural-economic policies, and that had been fine.

Now he had to sit on the Royal Transport. A ship that, until an hour ago, had been no such thing. It really had no right to claim itself as such, but he supposed they could sort that out, later. It was just one hyperspace journey back to Theed, and a rushed coronation and then he could go back to keeping the peace and being massively over-qualified for the—

Why, in all the levels of scum that gathered around a new recruit’s bathroom basin, was he now walking in to the small – could you call it a conference room? Lounge? General dumping ground? With the King-to-be and his diminutive mother? And where was the rest of the entourage?

“Ah, there you are,” said Princess Solo. Or would she soon be Queen Mother?

“Your Highness,” he said, clipping heels together sharply. Just because the boy wasn’t standing on ceremony, it didn’t mean she deserved any less respect.

“They did tell me your name. Hux, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, your H—” 

She waved a hand. “Don’t call me that. I stopped being a Princess twenty-three years ago. If you must use terms of respect, Ma’am is fine.”

Which meant both of them were bucking the system. Hux felt a part of himself die. He’d never really been a royalist (which was ironic, considering), but he did like the formality of the system. Most other planets had devolved entirely to democracy, but Naboo had held out with their monarchy and complimented it with public assemblies and councils. He didn’t know how the planet would fare if they lost the one thing that put them apart from everyone else, and he didn’t want to know. 

But he expected, at this rate, he might find out.

“Do we have to—” Kylo started.

Leia didn’t even turn to look at him. She just seemed to radiate _shut up_ , and Hux wondered if he could somehow learn this life skill. And then wondered why she had never been the one to rule, because clearly she was born to it. 

Oh, yes. Love. For a man who was now nowhere to be seen. That sounded about right.

“I will need you to personally oversee my son’s security, General,” Leia went on.

“Ma’am, I’m not a security guard, or—”

“We’ve been off Naboo for seven years. We don’t know who we can, and can’t trust. Hells, I shouldn’t even trust you, but I have to start somewhere. My brother wasn’t an idiot, and he appointed you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He’d risen very high under his own steam, but he’d been placed as the senior advisor following a rather unusual interview with the then-King. 

“Not like we’re staying long,” Kylo grumbled.

Again, that icy glare. “We’ll be staying, Kylo.”

“Right.” The man slung his hands into his pockets and slinked out.

“You’ll have to forgive my son, I’m afraid. He’s... used to more freedom than he’ll soon have.”

“A King usually has to live with controls, yes,” Hux agreed. Weird. He’d never thought of it before. All that power, and you were basically even less of your own man than the people you ruled.

Still. It would be nice to have the power, all the same. If they could trade places right here and now, he would. He wondered if Kylo would say the same.

“I need you to brief me on everything you think might be even remotely important,” Leia insisted.

That would take more than a hyperspace journey, Hux thought, but he gave it his best shot all the same.

***

Hux made sure he swept the palace three times over. Or his staff did, anyway. He personally oversaw the key areas, and he rotated the staff in the others to ensure nothing was missed. If he was going to be given the job of glorified bodyguard by the Queen-mother-to-be he would damn well do it the same as he did every other job: impeccably. 

There were no traces of surveillance technology other than the officially sanctioned ones, and no obvious (or less than obvious) threats to personal security. He did feel a little better meeting Leia and her son in the official boardroom, rather than in the belly of a rundown freighter ship. If nothing else, he supposed that at least no enemies of the state would _ever_ consider their future monarch would fly in a craft like that.

“I want a run down on all known agitators,” she opened with. “I want to know the axes they grind. People who were not fans of my brother, and more specifically people who are not a fan of me, or my son.”

Put me at the top of the list for your son, he thought, but didn’t let it show. “Of course, Ma’am.”

“How long a list do you want it to be?” Kylo muttered.

“I’d prefer you were more well-liked, but we work with what we have,” she said.

Maybe this would work. If Kylo was going to just figurehead and his mother did all the work, as long as he could reel in the King’s surly temper and intractable personality in public... it could work. A man like him had no right making decisions that affected everyone, anyway. He’d burn it all to the ground just to spite everyone.

“You’ve got your job cut out for you.” Kylo leaned back in his chair, his oversized boots landing on the fine, cherry-blushed wood of the table. 

The leather of his boots was scuffed and well-worn, the laces hanging low from the eyelets. If any of Hux’s staff dared report for duty in something like that, he’d have their rank by the end of ten minutes. He realised he was staring when there was a clearing of the throat. 

“It will be difficult to ascertain off-world threats quickly, but I know the main agitators on the planet,” he said, smoothly. “I have kept ahead of the curve on that front.”

“You’ll also need to work with the staff doing the invitations to the coronation. We’ll need to invite foreign dignitaries to it. I want them all checking, and the building as secure as you can make it.”

Now it was becoming almost micro-management. Hux knew _he_ was guilty of that, but it rankled a little to have someone do it to him. “Of course, Ma’am.”

“Can’t I just say ‘I do’ on camera, broadcast it, and be done?” the sullen King-to-be asked.

“When you’re King you can delegate most formal events down to me, or another representative,” Leia told him. “But you have to play the game a little.”

“I don’t _want_ to play the game!”

“What you want is not up for debate, Kylo.”

“Never is, is it? I’m the fucking King and I can’t even decide what I can wear.”

“Doesn’t seem to have stopped you.” Hux said it before he realised he had. He wasn’t quite sure why that comment made him slip up, or if it was just Kylo’s insufferable attitude that irked him. Normally he was the height of professionalism, and he kept the acerbic comments most securely locked in his head, but this one... this one just made his skin crawl.

He tried not to let his horror show, but really... it was a complicated emotion. There was some minor terror, yes; but there was also a sense of relief at finally letting go. Even in a tiny way. He schooled his face blank and expressionless, and was gratified to see that Kylo couldn’t do the same. The other man’s brows arched, lips parted lightly in surprise.

 _Here we go_.

But then there was a laugh, and Kylo leaned his chair so far back that Hux wasn’t sure how it didn’t topple. “For _now_. But after.”

“You can dress as you like in private, but not in public. We’re not having this discussion again. You need to grow up, Kylo. You’ve had your fun, and now it’s time to do your duty: a few hours a week is hardly much to ask.”

“Sure. Whatever. Get it all put in dossiers for me. You like those things, don’t you?”

“Would it be easier if we met in private?” Hux asked Leia.

The woman glanced at her son, weighing up the pros and cons. “In future, perhaps.”

If nothing else, the second hand embarrassment of being around a man dressed down by his mother was only interesting for so long.

***

A week was deemed to be the appropriate period of time to mourn and make arrangements. Hux never once saw either of the man’s relatives cry, but he couldn’t blame them. Even if they did still have a connection to him – after seven years in unspoken exile – not everyone could emote on command. Hux couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried himself, but then he had no reason to.

The news cycles wittered on about the Party Animal King, and no one could keep the worst of the scandals from breaking. Frankly, they weren’t even that _bad_. Kylo had apparently taken to enjoying mood-altering substances like most people, he’d been known to gamble, to ride fast skycars. There was a surprising lack of sexual dalliances confirmed, but plenty speculated on. He did what most people with money would do if they could: enjoyed it.

Hux sort of envied him. Sort of. He didn’t think he could go to the excesses the younger man had, but it would be nice to indulge in a few things. Maybe some nice new boots of his own, or a bigger apartment and bed. Money itself wasn’t that much of an incentive for him, it was the other thing he wanted: power.

And you could make money, but power was a harder beast by far. Apart from the luck of genetics and position, it took hard _work_. And power couldn’t easily – really – be bought.

As predicted, the boy had been scrubbed clean of his sins. Or – superficially so. Hux allowed himself a stare of precisely two seconds longer than he usually would, on purely aesthetic grounds. Kylo was tall – taller even than he was, and he was no midget – but broad, too. Strong shoulders, firm arms. He looked like he could lift up even Phasma if he wanted to try (which would be ill-advised, as Hux’s 2IC was even less likely to refrain from regicide). His dark hair was partially tamed into a clasp behind his neck, the curls vying for freedom above, and spreading like wildfire below. His pallor was stark, but the deep, rich blue-greens he’d been dressed in, accented with silver... yes, those were flattering, and complimented the Naboo flag that hung throughout the palace. A high-necked shirt (likely to keep him from slouching, he thought with some malicious pride), with the flower design picked out in fine silver thread all down his front. Understated, but nice. Black slacks and thigh high boots, and a cape of richer blue that fell behind him.

Kylo looked miserable in it. Which was a shame, because it was damn flattering. Hux let his eyes slide away, and back to his report.

“I want to go through the plans one more time, your Highness.”

“Have they changed?”

“I want to ensure you are ready for any contingencies.”

“If anything happens, I’m just doing what you yell at me.”

“And if I die?”

“...then whoever didn’t kill you tells me what to do.”

Hux fought the tiniest of smiles. “Do you not care about your safety?”

“If someone really wants to kill me – really, deep down – could you stop them?” 

Hux stared at him. The question was asked with a strange amount of heat, and he felt obligated to answer it entirely honestly. Not just the political answer, but the stark truth. “Perhaps. It depends on how they—” 

“So you admit there’s things you can’t protect me from?”

There were always things you couldn’t protect from. If a lunatic with no priors got close enough with a stylus they could end someone over canapés with their dominant hand and sufficiently aimed pressure. If a foreign power wanted it enough, the whole palace could likely be bombed with more firepower than their anti-missile or bombardment strategies could cover. “We can reduce the chances.”

“How did my uncle die, Hux?”

“It was a heart problem, one that had gone undetected.”

“How well did you know him?”

“...well enough to advise him.” Where was this going?

“And do you think he didn’t live healthily? Or get check-ups? Do you think he was the kind to drop dead from over-work?”

Maybe from over-work, but he’d been a healthy man. “What are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know. I just know he’s dead, and he shouldn’t be. And now I’m here, and I don’t want to be.”

“Well, I don’t want you here, either, but you’re the best Naboo’s got. Even if you don’t believe in the monarchy, or the planet... you could at least put a brave face on it so you don’t ruin the whole planet’s economic status. So you don’t doom these people to living through a failed state and a recession that would leave them destitute and starving. They’re not asking you to fix anything, just look smart and wave and meet a few people at parties, right?”

“Yeah. So why not let my mother rule in my place? I won’t _have_ any power. I’ll just be dressed up and trotted out like some glorified farm animal.” Kylo tugged at his collar, his fingers sliding under the fine fabric. 

“You do realise you’ve lived on their graces for all these years? Your money, your parties... that’s all been because of whose son you are?”

“And did I ask to be their son?”

“No, but you certainly didn’t refuse the advantages. Your Highness.” This was dumb. Why was he arguing with him? He just... ugh. Hux couldn’t stop himself, the man just _invited_ discord. 

“So if I changed my name and left, and went off to have a life of my own... if I threw all my money away and became a free spirit... you’d support that?” 

“Well, not _now_.”

“Right. So stop telling me I’m so privileged. Get me through this damn thing and then I can go back to being miserable behind closed doors for the majority of my life.”

Hux had nothing to say to that.

***

The coronation went without a hitch. It was broadcast across Naboo, and streamed off-world for the ex-pats and the few royalist fanboys and fangirls under other regimes. Hux’s face was thus on holoscreens galaxy-wide, and he wasn’t pleased, but it wasn’t negotiable. He was just on the edges of shots whilst the newly-appointed King and his mother reigned supreme. That was a small mercy. Hux would rather be the sole focus, not on someone’s periphery, but he was sure no one would pay attention to a senior official who happened to appear in the shot from time to time.

Kylo smiled politely and with dignity at the officials, surprising Hux. His voice was deep and resonant when he picked his ruler’s name: _Ren_. His public service name, to supplant his old surname. No longer a Solo. The old name’s donor wasn’t around to judge his reaction, and Hux was impressed that Han had ducked all of his security sweeps.

The man was nowhere to be found, according to his contacts. If he’d died, no one had a record of it. Of course, his ship could have had an accident in hyperspace and no one would ever be the wiser. The uncertainty made him uncomfortable, but there were things out of even _his_ control.

The crown was, thankfully, only a temporary measure. Kylo had opted to wear it for the remainder of the evening, but after that he would only wear it for important state events. The cost of replacing it would be more than Hux could ever earn in his working life, but then Naboo could afford it multiple times over. It was more the _history_ in the piece that worried him. Kylo might well go to the bathroom and flush it by mistake, or drop it and sit on it, or... something. It just needed to be gone, already. Back under lock and key, much like the new King.

He wanted to drink very badly, but he couldn’t. Not yet, not until he was home. And even then, he would likely be too tired to do more than take a glass of water to bed with him. Hux had to remain on duty all through the night. No one got in who wasn’t vetted, and he recognised all their faces. 

It was going well. It was. A silver platter drifted past him at just the right height and he plucked a tiny pastry with his left hand, bringing it up to his lips as his eyes...

“What are you doing?” King Kylo Ren of Naboo asked, a moment later, when Hux stood close in to his personal space, brushing the crumbs and splashes from his fine clothes.

He’d charged over as quickly as would work for his cover, pretending to be drunk when he greeted the woman next to Kylo, banging into him and then staggering into the protocol droid. Food and drink had ruined both their clothes, but Hux had felt he had no choice.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” he slurred. “Let’s get you cleaned. Sorry, nice people. I won’t have him long.”

Kylo glared angrily at him as Hux put a hand in the small of his back and pushed him through to the passageway for service staff. He pulled up his wrist, barking a command to accost the droid, and straightened, losing the drunk act when the door shut.

“I trust there’s an explanation for this,” Kylo snapped.

“The droid. I realised I recognised the one serving you. It had been your uncle’s personal protocol unit, and then I realised we sweep our own droids less than we do external visitors. A lapse.” One he would now correct. 

Hux pulled out a pen-style unit, flicking it on and running the roller over the traces of food and drink on Kylo’s clothes. He wandered it across his chest, down to his belly, ignoring the hands that swatted at him. 

“What could be on my clothes?”

“Trace toxins from the food. Would have to be a co-ordinated activation, to pass through our scans. But if there’s two elements that... aha! Activate when both are ingested...” He turned the small unit around so Kylo could read the screen.

“Someone just tried to poison me at my _own coronation_?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you worked this out because you _recognised a droid_?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know whether to fire you, or promote you.”

“Technically there isn’t really much you can promote me to, your Highness. Although feel free to invent a role for me. As long as it isn’t food taster.”

“...do you think they’ll try more direct routes? If that didn’t work? You just made it obvious to them that they failed, if they’re watching.”

Kylo was taking the attempt on his life more calmly than Hux could have hoped, but there was such a thing as a delayed reaction. He was braced for that, and – well. Wasn’t that unusual? A skip of adrenaline in his system for the first time in forever. He felt _alert_ and **alive**. 

“I think it’s likely. Do you think you can get the party to finish early?”

“How much of a fuss do you want?”

Hux narrowed his eyes. “Fuss?”

“You can pay me back after,” Kylo said. And then he pulled back his fist, slamming it across Hux’s face. 

Hux felt his nose split, felt the rush of blood, and wondered what he’d done to deserve this. He watched as Kylo walked back out into the party, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his nice tunic. Hux didn’t leave the room straight off, but a few people saw him through the door. Saw his _face_.

“Thank you all for coming,” Kylo called out. “But I think I should get some sleep. I’m told being a King is very involved, and I want to be a good one for you.”

He’d really just... punched him as an excuse to throw everyone out? Hux was half way between horrified at the future news reels, and impressed that Kylo really did _not_ give a shit. He wondered if people would think he was bad at his job, when he’d actually just saved the annoying man’s life. 

Well. If he did this right, he’d never have another employer anyway.

He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and made a note to discuss less disfiguring ways to create a scene in future. 

This had suddenly got interesting.  


	2. Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia has some unwelcome information.

The guests were all ushered out by his staff as Hux corralled the King and his mother off to the safest rooms in the palace: the royal chambers. Or suite, would be more appropriate. Kylo had inherited a small, bomb-proof section of the building that comprised of everything he could possibly need to live in if the worst came to the worst.

In a way, it was little more than a very luxurious hotel-cum-prison, when he thought about it. A disaster bunker with silk and velvet around the bars. At the doors stood a small contingent of his most trusted staff, and Phasma was currently rounding up every droid in the whole building. _Carefully_. 

Hux had insisted only he, Kylo and his mother be in the rooms. He now didn’t trust anyone else whatsoever, because this had to be – on some level – an inside job. And he was almost certain Leia didn’t want her son dead, and about as certain that Kylo would choose to commit suicide in a more impressive way, possibly whilst actually being crowned for maximum distress. He also knew _he_ hadn’t done it, so this was as close to secure as he could make it. Or at least, while Phasma was out and about.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Leia asked.

“Some fucker tried to kill me.”

“Kylo, language.”

Hux bit the inside of his mouth, already knowing what was going to come.

“Someone just tried to fucking well kill me, _Mother_ , I think I’m allowed to swear. Also, I’m the King.”

“...what happened?” Leia said, conceding the point this time. 

Hux took this as his cue. “The protocol droid that was the late King’s personal droid. I spotted it serving food and drink to His Majesty—”

“Could you just call me ‘Ren’?” Kylo asked. 

“Very well. To Ren.” It was his official name, and it was a little more familiar than Hux would normally be comfortable with, but neither of them were fond of private ceremony. He supposed it could get wearing to be referred to in the abstract, or at a remove, all the time. 

“That’s why you shoved him?” Leia asked.

“I had to keep up appearances, Ma’am. I couldn’t risk panicking the crowd, or letting the assassin know we were on to them in case it escalated to an outright attack.” He’d made a quick – hair-split – calculation. It had paid off.

“And the nose breaking?” she asked her son.

“We needed people to leave.” Kylo shrugged. He did not seem to be in the slightest repentant. 

Hux admired that, actually. Admired that the man stuck to his guns. It had been another quick fire decision, and although it wasn’t very politically sound, or good for his public image... well. It was perfectly in-character, and he’d hit someone who could take a blow or two for the greater good. Not that he’d tell him that. Better not encourage assault of his senior staff. 

“My people are working to get all the droids in custody. The specific droid had to be de-activated before it could self-wipe,” Hux cut in. “I have my forensic techs looking into the droid’s whereabouts at all times, and cross-referencing that with surveillance footage.”

“Do we have any suspects yet?” Kylo asked.

Which was more co-operative and involved than he’d been before, but maybe even he couldn’t deny that an attempt on his life was something worthy of his attention. 

“Not yet, I’m afraid. We’ve found no major threats to yourself.”

“Other than a murder droid... Extend the search parameters. If they murdered my uncle, then it isn’t a personal vendetta against just me. It’s the family, or the institution.” Kylo reached behind his head, pulling at the clasp and freeing his hair in a messy, inky tumble. 

“Already on it.”

“Can we find any forensic evidence from my brother?” Leia asked. 

“We can try. He was cremated, as per custom, but there were samples and examinations done beforehand. There would be a standard toxicology panel, but we can repeat the tests on the remaining samples as there could have been a cover-up.” Hux then paused.

“What is it?” Leia asked.

“This... some of this technically comes under the purview of the law, and not the military. I—”

“If you need my approval for anything, you have it,” Kylo jumped in. “I’ll make you nominal superior to the head of the police force, if you think it would help.”

“Whilst that would be flattering, it might make things more fraught. But if I can say I have a mandate with this specific issue, that will help.” If he ended up in charge of them, they’d suddenly expect his approval over ridiculous things, he knew. And they’d blame any failings on him.

No, that would not go down well. Let them keep their autonomy. He could offer additional finances from the royal budget to sweeten the deal, and curry favour with the chief. Yes. That would be best.

He realised he’d slightly wandered mentally from the conversation when he saw eyes fixed on him. “Who amongst your private staff you brought with you do you trust implicitly?”

Kylo shrugged. “I didn’t really pay them much attention, if I’m honest. No one really made an attempt on my life before, so I just... didn’t?”

There was a pause, then, that felt incredibly cold. 

“That’s not entirely true, Kylo.” Leia’s tone was light, but the words were not.

“...what does that mean?”

“You were too young at the time. Why do you think we went to Corellia?”

“Mom...”

Fuck. Hux kind of didn’t want to be here for this. “Ma’am, if you had a legitimate reason to fear for the King’s safety back then...?”

She looked... old, then. Old and sad. “The group in question was wiped out, but by that time we’d put roots down here.”

Kylo’s hand creaked. Or it felt like it did. Hux saw him flexing his hand in and out of a fist. “You mean to tell me there were threats to my life, and that’s why you uprooted me from Naboo? And why you let everyone think it was because I was _troubled_?”

“That was not our intention. We were happy to let them talk about your father if it kept you safe, but we never intended you to be so deeply in the public gaze, Kylo. It’s another reason we moved you. We thought if you had a new, fresh start that you could forge your own future.” Leia looked down. “We hoped you could become your own man.”

“And instead I’m back here, _not_ my own man – again – and I find out people have been trying to kill me since I was a child? And you don’t think it’s important to let me know?”

“The group was gone. **Is** gone.”

“Maybe not,” Kylo snapped.

“Maybe not.” Hux didn’t want this to turn into a domestic, and although he had less experience with calming down family units, he knew how to intervene with distressed soldiers, and that was close enough. “But we’ll look into it, all the same.”

“This day just gets better by the minute.” Kylo grabbed the crown, then, and for a moment Hux was worried the man’s oversized hands would crush the delicate golden weave. Instead, he dropped it onto his mother’s lap. “I’m going to raid the mini-bar, play podracer games until I pass out, and then not get up until lunch.”

Very mature. Hux looked down to Leia as the King left them alone.

“Please would you arrange for me to return to my own rooms?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“I’d feel better if you stayed in this suite with him. At least tonight.”

Well, that wasn’t an ask and a half. “Of course, Ma’am.”

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but then she shook her head and rose. Leia put the crown on the coffee table, and Hux stared at it for a moment. It seemed to be more trouble than it was worth.

***

Hux took up residence in the drawing room area, boots up on a foot stool, scrolling through the reports of his forensic technicians. The protocol droid was proving hard to crack, layered with additional security befitting a King’s body-servant. Which it had apparently been, as well as protocol unit. Hux realised he hadn’t actually paid that much attention to the droid. You just... forgot. You forgot they could ever do something you didn’t want them to, other than when they malfunctioned. You forgot they could be sentient and decide things, or be reprogrammed and _lose_ what passed for their free will.

How easy it was for something ubiquitous to suddenly become sinister. He’d trusted his life to droids how many times, over the years? How easily could he not be here, had his faith been misguided? 

The anti-Republic cell Leia had given him information on did seem defunct. They’d been pushing at various ‘weak’ points in the Republic, using less funded or politically unstable or diverse locus points in an attempt to topple the galactic stage. Or so it seemed, with the power of hindsight. 

A very cunning plan, really. He admired the concept, if not the execution. Either they’d had too many non-believers defecting, or they’d lacked funds and support, or they’d simply not been good at putting the plan into action after making it. Still, he could see now how the tables could have turned. How a few nudges another way, and the history books would be lauding the wonderful efforts of the founding fathers of some Empire or another. 

Hux was sure he could have done a better job of it. 

When he was certain he could do no more, he moved gingerly into a slightly reclined position, closing his eyes and allowing himself the lightest of sleeps. It would not be good for long-term use, but he could manage on very broken and light rest in cases of urgency, and this was one. His mind filtered through information as he went, faint not-dreams as he processed things ready for waking. 

A noise off to one side startled him upright, and his blue eyes met confused brown ones.

“The hell are you doing still here?”

“Sleeping, obviously.”

“In a chair? In your uniform? In **my rooms**?”

“Your mother asked me to.” Hux slid his boots from the stool, sitting more upright. “If you would like to over-rule her and dismiss me, feel free. But I won’t be a hindrance to you.”

“You’re sleeping in my fucking chair.”

“Would you like to sit in it?”

Kylo snorted, and shook his head. “Why did a guy like you ever decide to join the military?”

What did that have to do with anything? “It’s a family career. And one at which I excel. And one through which I can achieve something meaningful.”

“Babysitting me playing video games and eating junk food instead of ruling a whole planet?”

“...I did also save your life.”

The tall man snorted. “You ever gonna let that one go?”

“Maybe in a week or so. It’s still fresh.” He was smiling. What? He was smiling back at him, here in the half-lit room. It was funny, sort of. Now that he thought about it. He’d been prepared when he took the job of soldier that he’d have to put himself in the line of fire for someone, but he’d never expected he’d actually save a life by bumping into them forcibly at a dinner party, and then getting his face smashed. “Like my nose.”

“...yeah. Uh. Sorry about that.” Kylo ran his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “Thought it would be in-character. Plus, I was kinda annoyed someone tried to kill me.”

“Understandably so.” Hux would also be upset under those circumstances. “Death by nibbles would be a terrible way for history to remember you.”

“I was planning on going out in style, you know? Wrapped around something in a shiny skycar. Or, you know, from drink and drugs. Maybe in bed with five consorts.”

“Just five?”

“I’m a tall man. I’d need a bigger bed if I wanted to fit more than five in. Even _if_ we’re stacking.”

“Alright. I guess you do need room to move. And you only have two hands.” Hux honestly didn’t know how you’d engineer a six-person sex session. With hand signals and a plan of attack before you got undressed? It wasn’t that he lacked imagination, it was just that he rarely bothered to imagine, and when he did it never went beyond two, or three at the most.

“Don’t you have a home to go to?”

“I do, but your safety is of paramount importance, yo— _Ren_.” 

“Fine. But you can come and keep me company.”

“With your five consorts?”

“I sent them away. It’s just me and the games console right now.”

Ah, yes. Because the King was technically younger than him, and why had Hux thought that a King wouldn’t have their own hobbies and pastimes? It had never come up under King Luke, but Kylo was nothing like his late uncle at all. 

“I don’t play very well.”

“Even better, I’ll whup your ass. C’mon.” 

Hux rose slowly, arching the bend out of his spine as he did. “If you insist, Ren.”

He was going to have his ass handed to him. It was almost sad. If he could have guaranteed a win to wipe the smile from his face, he’d have taken it. He’d got the controller in his hands before he realised how insane this was. His first ever video game, and it was with his King.

At two in the morning.

Yep. World gone mad.

***

“Oh, goodie.”

Hux envied Kylo. He could use the tone that Hux normally _wanted_ to when he came across something utterly ridiculous or annoying. Hux had to keep that tone to his inside (inside _head_ ) voice. And he supposed at least there was no foul language just yet, though Kylo could make ‘goodie’ sound like the most cutting insult known to man.

“It isn’t mandatory.”

“Yeah, but things like this – they are. They just say they’re not, but if you don’t go, you end up being blockaded by twenty systems and put under ridiculous trade embargos. Just because I don’t _like_ this system doesn’t mean I don’t _understand_ it.”

Which Hux had to say he was beginning to get. “Why don’t you play along, then?”

Because he had to also know his devil-may-care attitude was not winning him much support. He hadn’t done anything outright awful, but it was only a matter of time. 

“I’m angry, I guess.” The King shrugged. “I don’t want this dumb title.”

“But there’s no one else.”

“How would you feel if I told you that?”

“...that I had to be... King?”

Hux thought about it for a moment. Did he want the political answer, the vague one, the flattering one, or the truth? He liked to think he’d make a good monarch. He had a level head (mostly), a civil tongue (if not mind), and a sense of civic pride. He might not be the beloved, avuncular Luke, but he had gravitas, despite his relative youth. He was older than _Ren_ , after all. 

“You want to swap places, don’t you?” Kylo was oddly perceptive at times.

“I think I could do a reasonable job.”

“Better than me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

  
“But you thought it.” Kylo tossed the invitation card onto the table. “If you’re going to be one of my advisors, I’d prefer you told me what you actually think, rather than what you think I want to hear.”

“And when it isn’t what you want to hear?”

“Then I’ll get angry. But I’ll still listen.”

Time to test that, then. “Yes. Yes, I think I could do a better job, but the worst part is: so could you. You’re too busy stuck in this ridiculous persona you’ve cultivated, and you’re afraid to really work at it. In case you don’t succeed.” Which was more than the King had asked for, but now he said it, he knew it was true.

Kylo was his own worst enemy. He was setting himself up to fail, telling himself he didn’t want it, failing on his own terms instead of by not being good enough. It was... sad, in a way.

He saw the insecurity pass over the younger man’s face at being read like that, saw him fight the flinch reaction to defend himself, to brush it off. To get angry and defensive. 

“And you: you think you’d be a good King, not even knowing what it entails, don’t you?”

“I think I know enough,” Hux said, slowly.

“Right. Like standing toe to toe with someone who publicly denounced you, and smiling politely because you’re at a civil function. Or not having any kind of life of your own. Or being alternately hated or loved, depending on external influences you have no control over, but are perceived to...”

“I didn’t say it would be _easy_.” No, anything but. “But you’re never going to get anyone loyal to you if you don’t act with a little more grace and decorum.”

“That the same for you?”

Hux frowned. “...what?”

“That what I have to do to make you loyal? This your way of telling me I have to buck my ideas if I don’t want stabbing in the back?”

“That is not what I—” 

“That’s what the media will report.” Kylo fussed with a trail of hair, pushing it behind his ear. “So why should I bother? Whatever I say will be taken out of context. Might as well have them write me off as a hot-headed party animal. It’s not exactly untrue, anyway. They can either love who I am, or fuck off.”

It made a weird amount of sense, but it was still wrong. You couldn’t be an asshole and get the public vote, right? Luke had been universally popular, and although he set a high bar, it did mean it was possible. He thought about it for a while. “I still think you’re wrong,” he said, eventually.

“Which is why I keep you around.”

“Because I disagree?”

“And because you tell me.” Kylo shrugged. “So. The Republic wants me to attend. Apparently our duly elected representative isn’t enough.”

“It’s tradition,” Hux said, still trying to work out what he thought about the earlier statement.

“And it’s unsafe, right now.”

“Yes. Particularly unsafe.”

“But I still need to go, knowing I might well never come back.”

“...yes.”

“Great.” 

He could understand the frustration, he could. Although it wasn’t his own life directly on the line, he might well be murdered in the process of saving Kylo’s miserable life. And also, apparently, he was now his senior advisor? How in the hell had that happened? (Not that he was complaining.)

“If we’re doing this, I want to do it right. I want to give them a huge fucking target, right...” a gesture indicating the space between his shoulderblades, “...here. Then we can capture and interrogate them, and work out who wants me dead.”

“Making you bait would not go down well with your mother.” Which seemed to be one of the very few threats that held any water with Kylo. 

“Then we don’t tell her. It’s simple: I’m a wildcard. We just... _plan_ some wildness. A little.”

And fake a reckless act? Really? “It could work.”

“It will. You’re going to make it work.”

“So I see.”

Kylo snorted. “Come on, it must be your idea of heaven. Plotting _anarchy_.”

“It sounds like anything _but_.”

“Then it’s a challenge. And I **know** you like those. It’s why you wouldn’t be happy as me: you wouldn’t have to work for _anything_ unless you wanted to. And then you wouldn’t know if people were kowtowing just because of your family name. You’d be even more miserable than me.”

Hux thought about _that_ , too. And he wondered how much Ren was projecting, too. He suspected quite a lot. How could you ever be convinced of someone’s loyalty, or respect, or interest when your very name demanded it? 

“I assume you’re about to tell me your initial plan for me to make work, then?”

“I just came up with the idea. Give me a break, Hux.”

“You’re slacking.”

“Maybe, but I still had the idea, and you’ve just stood there taking up space.”

The barb was unheated, though, and Hux called up the itinerary for the visit to the Senate Hall. It was a very basic itinerary for now, but it would massively and exponentially grow once the aides heard. 

“What’s on your list of things to do in the capital before you die?” Hux asked.

“Now you’re talking...”


	3. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Hosnian Prime, Kylo addresses the Senate.

The entourage to Hosnian Prime was, mercifully, small. Small for a royal party, anyway. Kylo had demanded a skeleton crew of anyone essential plus those Hux said he needed, and so they had the bare minimum of pilots, administrative staff and a lone cook. The cook had been personally (and intensively) vetted by Phasma, so Hux was sure that he or she would pass muster.

Phasma’s vetting tended to be two questions away from long-term psychological damage. Anyone who could withstand that would cope with the King’s temper. 

On the capital, the Republic had a collection of penthouse suites available at several high-rise (and high-tariff) hotels to pick and choose from. Kylo had picked the one closest to the nightlife, of course. It was in-keeping with his public persona, and it also worked for their plan. Hux had been given the details in advance, so he’d been able to come up with a security plan for it. One that was pretty much watertight, so they could force any attempt on Kylo’s life on their own terms.

Should one happen. But as there hadn’t been any arrest on the back of their investigations so far, he suspected they would continue with their plan.

The hotel was maybe a little step down from Kylo’s personal rooms, but Hux’s own room was several steps _up_. He’d never gone into much in the way of interior decoration of his own home, mostly because he didn’t spend much time there other than to eat, dress, or sleep. His furniture was all functional and well-made, a utilitarian approach to things.

He didn’t have anyone he needed to impress with expensive fabrics or designer seats. If you could put your rear on it comfortably, and it wouldn’t fall apart, that was enough for him.

Still. It was... _nice_. Sometimes. To indulge.

Maybe.

He wasn’t needed for an hour, according to the schedule. Once he’d swept the rooms, he’d been let off the leash for a while, and he’d decided to unpack his small suitcase. Clothes went into the wardrobe, shoes into the bottom. He arranged his toiletries in the bathroom (and admired the size of the bath, wondering how many people it was designed for, or if it was to cope with wider, well-fed guests), fingers trailing over detailed marble and clearing his throat to hear the acoustics.

The carpets were plush. Really plush. He removed his boots and socks, walking around and scrunching his toes through the thick pile. It was a luxury he could get behind. Imagine getting out of bed in the morning to that, to feeling your feet enveloped by soft fronds? Oh yes. It would take a lot of maintenance, but if you could afford it, it would be worth it.

Next to the bed. It was big – maybe as big as Kylo’s on Naboo? – he hadn’t paid much attention. But here, now: this was his. He walked his calves and thighs back to the edge, spread his arms and let himself _fall_.

It was elating, and it shouldn’t be, but it was a tiny thrill to let _go_. To have the momentary flicker of _what if I slip, what if it breaks_ run through his head. It was **ridiculous** , because the bed would of course be there. It would of course hold. But that didn’t stop the tiny glint of ‘what if’ all the same.

Hux landed. 

The bed almost swallowed him whole. 

It was... wonderful. Really. His arms stretched wide and didn’t reach the edges of the bed, and even when he wriggled himself up into the pillows, his legs barely met the limit of the frame when he let them splay wide. The mattress was just the right combination of firm and soft, and he moaned in low satisfaction, rolling over to push his face into the small mound of pillows. The smell of freshly laundered cotton filled his nose, and he just... relaxed. 

Hux was in love. He was. He was going to have to save up and upgrade his own bedroom, now. The artwork on the walls could wait, but he was going to have one of these beauties if he had to eat noodles and toast for the rest of his life. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

How in the hell hadn’t he heard the damn hulk of a man entering? And it could only _be_ one man. There were two keycards with access to all rooms of the suite, and he owned the other. 

“I was just...”

“Salivating into the pillow?”

Hux considered smothering himself with said pillow. He was rarely caught in such an undignified position, and most certainly not when he was ogling furniture. He shoved his head down for a moment, then rolled over and dropped his feet off the bed.

“You didn’t need to get up on my account.”

“I was just... getting acclimatised.” Yes. That. He didn’t even have his feet covered. Fuck. “I thought I had an hour?”

“I got bored.”

How many things started with ‘I got bored’ in Kylo Ren’s life, Hux wondered. He ran fingers through his hair, tidying up the minor mess he’d made. “I see. Is there anything I can do for you, or did you just want to watch me lying on my bed?”

“Should I come back later?”

Which... okay. That was his King talking. Personal differences aside, he _was_ his ruler, his monarch. Which meant he was actually afforded more courtesy than Hux had been giving him. “I’m sorry, your Majesty. I should have said: how can I help you?”

“Ren. You can save the political titles for work. For... when other people are around. It’s bad enough no one calls me Kylo but my mother, now.”

“You didn’t use your titles before?”

“What was the point? I was the disgraced son of a disgraced mother and even _more_ disgraced father. I was shepherded off-world.” Kylo started to pace through his room, and Hux sat on the edge of the bed to watch.

“She obviously wanted to protect you.”

“There’s no protecting someone born to my family line, Hux.” He glanced over at him. “Do you even have another name?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Well. Hux is fine.”

“So is Ren.” He watched, wondering if he should – if Hux even _wanted to_ – “Or Kylo.”

He wasn’t executed on the spot. Apparently his King really was just lonely enough to come harass his General. Hux wasn’t really one prone to making small talk. He was all about his career – always had been – using just enough politeness to get what he wanted, and nothing more.

Connections were a weakness. Either you would be forced to compromise them - or your goals - before long. And if you gambled with your private time and misjudged, you could end up linked to someone who ended up disgraced.

And there was little more disgraceful than a King who partied instead of did his duties, was there? Well. Other than outright criminals like murderers and rapists. Those were worse, of course, but of the ‘legal misbehaviour’ category, Kylo had to take pride of place.

So why was he now having to entertain a bored monarch?

Maybe he should try to learn more about what made him tick. Or... boom. “What would you have done? If you weren’t your mother’s son?”

Kylo frowned, already rifling through the – to call it ‘mini bar’ would be an insult – row of optics and bottles of wine adorning the wall in the next room. Hux could hear his finger sliding along the glass, his nail tapping at the labels. He could see his face as he went through the liquors. 

“You mean, if I had your life, or just... in general?”

“Either. We’ve already established I would willingly take on the mantle of King.”

Mostly he just wondered what Kylo really wanted out of life. It would make managing him a little easier, if nothing else.

A wistful look crossed Kylo’s face, and the man came back through with a rather nice bottle of red and two glasses. Without asking, he poured a sizeable slog into each, then handed one to Hux. 

“You know, I’ve asked myself that a lot of times. Most of the time the answer I give is ridiculous. Because I have no real idea how an actual career works, so I’d probably be destitute somewhere.”

Which was more honesty than Hux expected, and also a little more self-awareness, too. “Alright. So imagine it’s a perfect world where you can do what you want, and excel at it, and be paid for it. What would you do?”

Kylo swirled his glass, examining the sloshing contents. It stroked the sides before tumbling back down again, and Hux hadn’t even realised he was mirroring the gesture until he leaned to take a sniff of the bouquet. It was a good vintage, and a complex aroma. He took a small sip, letting it sit on his tongue before swallowing. 

“Honestly, I have no clue. I have no musical talent, so I can’t exactly be a rock star. Even if that lifestyle would appeal. I could be a critic: food, movies, games... But I’d probably just be too offensive for that, and I’d get bored of things I enjoyed doing. Maybe... podracer? Live fast, die young...”

“That would suit you.”

“It would help if I did die young, wouldn’t it?” Kylo asked, his eyes glittering over the rim of his glass. 

“Not until you’re married with a child on the way. Then you can die all you want.”

“Yeah. Well.” Kylo grabbed the wine bottle by the neck. “We all have our flaws.”

Hux watched as the man walked haughtily out of the room. He hadn’t actually intended any offence, he’d thought it was pretty much a given that the King would need an heir. After all, the lack of one last time had caused this situation to begin with.

Great, he thought, and threw himself back onto the bed.

***

The King spent the next day giving him the cold shoulder. He would listen to military and security advice, grunt, and then reply with single word answers whenever he was forced to do something other than nod.

Hux was infuriated. This behaviour was _beyond_ childish. He hadn’t insulted him, hadn’t maligned him, hadn’t tried to stop him (much) with his overly-dramatic schemes. And hadn’t Ren said he valued his opinion? Valued his opposing views, and his ability to voice them? 

Apparently he was all hot air and no substance.

And mostly, Hux was annoyed with himself for ever thinking Kylo was anything but that. He’d been thinking wishfully, trying to see the best in him... which he never did. Never. He always assumed the worst so he could be both ratified and gratified by the outcome. Now here he was, being disappointed.

The distance would also make his job harder. 

A formal, official distance was fine. He’d never been ‘chummy’ with the late King Luke, but he’d been professionally polite. He’d made a gross error in judgement in trying to get close... no. Allowing Kylo to try to get close to him, and he would now rectify the problem. They would be work associates. No more.

If it was even still possible.

“Ren, we need to go over the policies for the Senate visit.” That was clear cut and simple.

“Just tell me to run if I need to run. Or whatever.”

“Ren, would you please take this seriously? It’s your life that’s on the line.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, General. People tried to kill me. It was all very dramatic. Maybe you should see who the next in line to the throne is, volunteer your service to them, and then assist in hurrying the process along.”

“You’re being ridiculously petty.”

“I’m being _me_. If you haven’t noticed.”

“There isn’t a successor. You don’t have an heir.”

“No. And maybe it’s good that I don’t.”

“...and why would that be the case?”

“ _Then no one else is forced into this ridiculous situation_. I have no qualifications to rule, but I apparently don’t _make_ any decisions anyway, and just look pretty and wave a lot?”

Hux wanted to strangle him. “You have plenty of power.”

“Fine. Then I order myself to step down, and I order you – or my mother – to be the next monarch.”

“...just not _that_.”

“Then **what**? I can’t pick my own heir, I can’t say what I think, I can’t change our policies without going through a million loopholes... fuck this. Tell the Senate I’m sick, or something.” Kylo glared, realised he wasn’t holding anything, and stormed out of the room.

Hux followed.

“No. _No_. You don’t get to run away from this, you over-grown baby.”

“I’m the fucking _King_.”

“And that means you have _responsibilities_ to go with your fucking _rights_ ,” Hux yelled back, just as loudly. “How many times do you want to be told? Or begged? Is this some ego trip to you?”

“The fuck?”

Hux chased Kylo, all the way to the door. He stood inches away, fuming up at the slightly taller man with all his indignant rage. “Do you get off on people begging you to grow up? To do your part? To not fuck them all over? Because you have to _know_ you’re risking millions – billions – of livelihoods. You’ve been briefed on it often enough. So why do you insist on acting like you’re some terrible martyr to the cause, when all anyone’s asking you to do is just _show up_?”

“Oh, so you think it’s fine that I should have to get married and have children _just because my uncle didn’t_?”

“You’re threatening to overthrow a whole planet’s political system – and risk a galactic economic and diplomatic meltdown – just because I said you needed to have a _child_?” 

“Fine. Go on then. Go get me a wife. Find me one and I’ll put a baby in her right here and now.”

“Would you stop being _ridiculous_?” Hux was disgusted. “You’d have to marry her, first.” 

“We’re on Hosnian Prime. You could get me a permit in minutes, if you wanted. Get me a permit, a woman, and I’ll give you your damn heir and then I can abdicate and fuck off somewhere and leave it to them.”

“Oh, and that’s any better than what was done to you?”

“ _And yet the point still stands for you_?”

They were going round and round in circles. Kylo just wouldn’t accept his position, or not for more than a few hours at a time, and there wasn’t a viable alternative. “If you want to get rid of a hereditary monarchy, don’t you think there’s better ways of doing it than literally trying to burn everyone on your way out?”

“Right. Because who is going to listen to a King who wants to get rid of Kings.”

“Surely it sounds better coming from one, than coming from someone who might stand to gain from it?” Like, say, him. 

Kylo’s dark brows knitted before him. Obviously that had never occurred to him. “My mother... wouldn’t... approve.”

“Neither would I, if I’m honest with you, but if you’re genuine about reform then I’d rather you pushed for it sensibly, than acted like a spoiled brat.”

The King stared at him again, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. And then – as fast as the storm had come – it passed. Amusement in those troubled eyes, a laugh on his lips. “You really are a piece of work, Hux.”

“I believe in Naboo.” He shrugged. “I’ve dedicated my life to her. I’m not about to let some overgrown, hairy monster destroy her over a childish fit.”

And he did believe in Naboo, he realised. Passionately. He’d once thought he only really cared about the potential for power, but maybe it was more complicated than that. He... _cared_. Sort of. For the people. He didn’t want to see his homeworld destroyed, and he was now – more than ever – aware of how close to the brink this situation could take them. How...

...powerful he actually was, right now. He could encourage Kylo either way. He could push him into a meltdown of galactic proportions, or he could try to calm his storms and weather the tempests. He could... he could do so _much_.

And Kylo seemed ready to let him.

“Fine. I guess I shouldn’t tell them I want to retire when I first see them, but this conversation isn’t over, General. I want that on record.”

“If you’re genuine about change, then... fine. I’ll do what I can to help you. But only if you promise you’ll do your best to minimise harm and maximise peace, stability, and security.”

He was... staging a revolt. With the King. Of a monarchy he approved of. Although he approved of it with another King, and they didn’t have one, so... that was... okay? Hux’s head was swimming from the constantly shifting priorities. 

“What was it you wanted to tell me, anyway?”

Hux was likely going to murder him before the journey was over. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.

***

The Senate had its own security measures and staff. Hux did not trust them. Hux did not trust any work that he hadn’t overseen personally, and delegating had always been difficult for him. The King of Naboo greeted the Senate on the little floating podium, and Hux stood at the side of the room, fidgeting.

“No one has been attacked in the Senate Hall in over two hundred years,” Phasma said to him.

“Well, everyone always says ‘it will never happen’, but everything that happens, ever, happens for a first time, first. And if it happened two hundred years ago...”

“It won’t. Not here.”

“They likely want to destabilise the Republic.”

“Which means they will do it by degrees. None of the previous attacks were near the centre of the political world, and you know it.” Phasma could always be relied upon to provide a sounding board. She was cool, calm, efficient. Much like he was, and they had a mutual respect for one another. Or he liked to think the sentiment was returned, but she was as po-faced as he was.

He did know it, though: Did know the previous plans had been different. They’d always been on distant planets, small ones, but crucial. It had been the MO of the old group, and he was almost convinced it was the same dissidents as the last time. It had only been seven years, so there was every chance that other cells had gone into stasis, or been working at smaller targets in the interim. Seven years was nothing, politically and militarily speaking. 

“I want to know what they think they’ll gain, though. He’s hardly been a willing sovreign.”

“People will forgive a man almost anything when he’s dead.” 

Phasma had a point. Once he was gone, there’d be no more wild parties to sully his image. He’d be a martyr to his cause, and a rallying point. Which might well go the other way, in terms of impact. Unless it was to try and force Naboo to crumble, or cede from the Republic. There was something he was missing, some element he hadn’t yet put his finger on. 

Hux didn’t actually want him dead, though. Even if he was an arrogant playboy. Even if he was a rude and insensitive clod. Not just for job security, and that was a weird, intrusive thought. He tried to file that away.

“He wants to end the monarchy.” He shouldn’t say it, even here. But they had sound-nullifying technology, keeping their own words inside and allowing them to hear the broadcast information from the Hall itself. Every unit in the Senate Hall had one, and no one could read his lips when they stood like this.

He shouldn’t tell her at all, in all fairness. Even as his most trusted Captain, he’d been told in confidence. There were no serious plans, not yet. He wasn’t even sure if Kylo would have the balls or the attention span to see it through. 

“And you’re... helping him?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t think the man knows what he’s doing from one minute to the next. Or... cares.” He probably did know. It was the commitment that was lacking, not the intelligence. 

“You do realise you’ll upset a lot of very important people if you do help him. And he’ll be in even less of a position to shelter you if it works.”

“I do. Which is why I’d want him to do it _correctly_ , not just... half-assed.”

“And you think he’s capable of it?”

“If he wants to be, he is.”

They stood in silence, listening to the King’s little speech to the Senate. Both had heard it plenty of times. 

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” she said, at length.

“No. I suppose you haven’t.”

The speech ended. It was time for Phase Two.


	4. Recreation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duty done, Kylo wants to unwind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive Hux's opinion of the establishment. It is born of prejudice and preference and does not reflect my own.
> 
> I also wrote this without realising it could be upsetting due to the location of the attack. It was unintentional, and the attack is solely politically motivated. I apologise if it causes any distress, it was not my intention.

“That was worse than my coronation, and I nearly _died_ at my coronation.”

“I remember. I was there.”

The skycar ride back wasn’t long, thankfully. Phasma was in the decoy car with the body double, and Hux was alone with Kylo and the driver. 

“I don’t know why they wouldn’t just see our Senator.”

“It’s polite, is why.”

“I think they just want to laugh at the backwater with the hereditary monarch,” Kylo countered. “We must be the laughing stock of the galaxy. Fallen so far that I’m the only viable option.”

“I do wonder what they’d have done if you weren’t around to take the throne.”

“Probably try to clone my uncle,” Kylo grumbled. “And persuade him to marry. Or institute a perpetual monarchy in the real sense: one man, one crown, forever.”

“...he wasn’t such a bad King.” Although Hux wasn’t sure how he felt about an endless stream of Lukes Skywalker. 

“Less trouble than me?”

“Infinitely. He mostly left me to my work.”

“I’m more fun,” Kylo insisted, leaping out of the car once it touched down. 

‘Fun’ was a relative term, Hux thought, as he sighed after him to check the place was clear. He was barely finished when Kylo came out of the ‘fresher carrying a small bag of supplies.

Hux frowned. “What... what are you... hey!”

Kylo walked in front of him, then crowded into his personal space. When Hux didn’t cede, he shoved at him, bodily. “Sit.”

“What are you playing at?”

“ _Sit_.”

Hux glowered, but this _was_ his monarch. He sat.

And then there were hands on his head, and Kylo had something that involved flat, warm plates and necessitated them being dragged over his hair, a clump at a time. He submitted to the procedure with no small amount of distress, unsure what was going on.

“I need you incognito.”

“So you’re straightening my hair?”

“...in part.”

“Kylo.”

“Shh.”

Hux grabbed the hand near his head, and pulled down the tool. There was a strange series of vials connected to it, and then it dawned on him. He leapt to his feet and ran to the mirror. Kylo had... dyed his hair. It was black, like the King’s, in the most part. And then there were streaks through it in various colours: metallic pinks, silvers, pale blues. His hair stood to a disordered attention, spiking all over the place. He put his hand up to it, feeling the heat, and pulled it down to examine. No dye leaked onto his hand, and he span on his heel.

Kylo did not look repentant. “I have the solution to remove the colours after.”

“Why did you decide to assault my hair?” It looked weird. Kind of unsettlingly so, and Hux wasn’t happy. Even if it wasn’t permanent, it was a change to his appearance that he hadn’t condoned.

“I need you to be less memorable. I mean, I need you to go undercover with me.”

“As what?”

Kylo shrugged. “Just change into your off-duty clothes. Nice ones.”

Off-duty clothes. Right. He didn’t travel with many. “We agreed an itinerary, you know.”

“I know. And we’ll sort of stick to it, but also... not.”

“I didn’t plan for that.”

“You didn’t plan for not being able to plan?” Kylo laughed. “You’re not as smart as you think you are, Hux.”

Maybe he wasn’t.

***

Hux put on a simple shirt, grey like the sky before rain. His slacks were black, but that was because only his ceremonial uniform had any other colour for his legs. He didn’t see the need to vary from a winning formula. He peered into his reflection again, pushing fingers through his hair. Whatever stuff Kylo had applied added a little texture, meaning his hair didn’t slick around his face in neat, orderly lines. 

It made his face look different. Like, the shape of it. He turned left and right, examining the lines of his cheekbones. He looked paler underneath it, never particularly dark to begin with. Next to Kylo, though, it had never really been noticeable.

Not that he looked much.

The hair looked strange with the shirt, so he unbuttoned one more hole over his throat, then knocked on their adjoining door. 

Kylo opened, lips curling up, and then face falling the minute he laid eyes on him. “That’s your idea of off-duty?”

“It’s not my uniform.”

“You look like you teach advanced calculus.”

“I was good at advanced calculus.” Hux frowned. Why did it matter what he wore? No one really paid attention to him off of Naboo. He was fairly sure the Hosnian, Senate security staff hated him as a country bumpkin, and the lay person probably wouldn’t even recognise Kylo in person, let alone him. 

Kylo, meanwhile, was wearing pants that looked like they’d been painted on. A deep, **deep** shade of blue, with a belt that hugged his hips and dipped low at the front. His shoes were overly-shiny black, and pointed toes made his over-sized feet look even bigger.

And he wasn’t wearing a shirt yet. He was busy clasping in what looked like bright, sparkly beads into his hair. He’d streaked in electric blue through his dark mane, and the beads clamped down onto rivulets of hair, adding a little shimmer to the whole look.

Without the shirt, Hux couldn’t help but... well. He must work out. His eyes averted, and he was ashamed to admit it. 

He looked instead at the collection of shirts on the bed. They were all sleek and some were even sheer, and he saw how many offered a plunging neckline. Curious, he looked back. “Where do you intend on going?”

“Somewhere fun. You’re going to need to look a bit... less like you retired yesterday.”

“I’m too young to retire.”

“You could. Don’t we pay you enough?”

“I would die of boredom in a week.” He said it before thinking, but it was the truth, and he supposed it cost him nothing to admit. His eyes flickered to the hair and pants, then he tapped one shirt. It was a purple like good wines stains, and it would accent the current scheme. 

“Good choice.” Kylo grabbed it, shrugging it on. 

He cut a very striking figure, Hux had to admit. He did feel under-dressed, now. He just didn’t ever need to dress to impress when off-duty. Was this going to be a regular occurrence? Being dragged off, painted up to look like something fey and fond of the vine and the bass line?

“Shame none of them would fit you.” Kylo tossed his hair out, letting it sit around his shoulders. “But if you let me, I could do your face.”

“Do... my face?”

“Just little things. Nothing terrible.”

“Why do you want to do this? No one knows who I am.”

“It will make you look good. For where we’re going.”

“You could always dress me as your body guard.” It was what he was, wasn’t it? Supreme Commander of the joint military forces of Naboo, reduced to the King’s private guard. At the same time as his other duties. 

“That would be less fun.” Kylo nodded at a small valise on the desk. “May I?”

“...nothing... lasting.”

He watched with some horror as the thing was opened. How many powders and inks did the man possess? Was it the current ‘in’ thing? Or did Kylo just like to paint his face? Hux didn’t entirely care. He watched as things were padded onto sponges, then closed his eyes at the urging, tilting his head back. 

Surprisingly gentle fingers worked over him. First a fine base coat that felt less cloying and more comfortable than he had imagined; Kylo’s hands were soothing as they stroked over his cheeks, chin, the bridge of his brow and out over his nose and ending up back under his jaw. It was... nice. Being pampered, even if closing his eyes and sitting still and passive went contrary to every instinct in him. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw there was a faint shimmer of silver across his eyelids, and other than that he couldn’t actually tell what Kylo had done. He looked different, but it didn’t look ridiculously false.  It complimented the dark tones of his hair, and he nodded. 

“I want to go to a...” Uncharacteristically, his King faltered.

“Brothel?”

“No!” Kylo sounded annoyed. “Just... dancing. Somewhere fun. Somewhere we’d never see the same on Naboo. I can go to fancy shows and restaurants anywhere, but I want to see... I want to see what everyone _wants_ to do, but pretends they don’t.”

“Pretty sure I don’t want to.”

Which was a mistake. You never threw down the gauntlet like that, a man like Kylo would take it as a challenge just to spite you. “What if I change your mind?”

“You know I don’t—”

A finger on his lips, and Hux’s brows knit in annoyance. You didn’t just go around shushing grown men. 

“Suspend your doubt. Just for an hour. You can tell me after you hated it, if you did. I know what you _do_ do, and it’s boring. So... try to be not boring, for once in your life.”

“I’m not boring. I have a very full life.”

“Serving a King who is in no fit state to rule, yes, I know. So live one night, and if you hate it I promise I won’t take you out with me again. Except as my Security Captain.”

“General.”

“Security General,” Kylo conceded. “Just one night. I did your dumb Senate stuff...”

“Alright. But I’m still going to be on duty, so I don’t know how you think I’ll... relax.”

“Try. For me?”

Why would that make a difference?

***

They stole out a side door, walking in the open streets to hail a fare-charging skycar. In the street. Like commoners.

Hux was _technically_ a commoner, admittedly, but having the King wandering around like a civilian went counter to every instinct in his body. No one immediately opened fire, but he couldn’t relax until the car opened and let them in.

And then he immediately clocked the badge on the dash, tapping at his wrist for...

Kylo grabbed his right hand, pulling it back. 

“R—”

“Shut up,” Kylo insisted.

“I need to—”

Blue eyes met brown, a battle waged while the driver was none the wiser. He suspected Kylo now had yet another name, but it would have helped if he’d told him his cover before they’d left the hotel. 

“Fine.”

It was just a simple background check to ensure the driver was a) legit and b) not a criminal. Not like it could keep Kylo alive, or anything. 

“I just want it on record that I think this is a bad idea.” Hux was going to die of stress-linked complications before he hit his next birthday.

“I’ll make an official statement to that effect, then.”

To the club, or close, and Kylo paid with physical credits. Hux had no idea how he’d gotten hold of them, but he had. They slipped out of the vehicle and onto the duracrete, and Hux said: “What am I going to call you, then?”

Kylo froze. “Uh.”

“You didn’t think up an alias?”

“I haven’t exactly done this before.”

“You party all the time, according to the tabloids.” He’d researched him, once they’d announced his claim to the throne. Seen the pictures.

“Nowhere near as often as you probably think. So I blew off steam a few times... I had nothing else to do.” Fingers slid through his hair, sending the glittering balls tumbling. “Uh. I didn’t have to pretend I wasn’t me – or pretend I’m pretending, in this case – so I never needed a false name before.”

“It has to be something you’ll remember, and react to.” He knew that much. 

“...you... sometimes people call me Ky...” 

The asshole had the indecency to look abashed. Hux rolled his eyes. “Okay. Ky.”

“Act like... just don’t act like you’re my General. Even if you’re watching for assassins. We’ll follow the protocols you set out, just adapt them for this building.”

“Which I haven’t swept, or vetted.”

“Live a little.”

***

This was _not what he liked to do to relax_. It was kind of the opposite of relaxing. Or – or anything positive. This was truly _hell_. This was the worst kind of disaster.

The lights were low, to conceal the grime, the music loud and thudding, the smell of sweat and despair acrid on the dry-ice air. The ‘music’ wasn’t really that, it was a collection of deep bass beats, a few shrill swoops over the top. No lyrics he could detect, but the dancers on tables and stages didn’t seem to mind, and nor did the patrons. There were drinks of various colours and potencies being consumed, some of which barely looked potable. 

It was just... Hux liked sensuality as much as the next man, he did. But this... made him uncomfortable. It just wasn’t for him. He preferred things behind closed doors, one on one, rather than en masse. He remembered the conversation about multiple consorts and wondered if Kylo was into that: shared bedspace, or sex as a spectator sport. _Hux was not_. 

Kylo dragged them to the bar. He ordered drinks in tall glasses with taller straws, pieces of fruit speared by the triumphant bartender’s wooden stakes. Hux was usually one for more refined drinks: drinks where half the enjoyment was in the complicated palate. Drinks like this were intended to get you drunk quickly, and hide the taste of the ethanol. They were a little too tart and fruity for his liking, but if that’s what the King wanted...

“You know, you could smile. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“This isn’t my... thing.”

“I know. But why? What _is_ your thing?”

Progression through the ranks. The satisfaction of a job well done. The knowledge of his own superiority. 

Big beds. Apparently.

“I don’t have much time to... indulge.”

“Do I work you too hard?”

“What? No! I just—” He could delegate more if he wanted to, but he didn’t, as a rule. “I enjoy my work.”

“You work too hard,” Kylo surmised. “You said yourself there’s no real promotion for you. You got there, you can take the night off, once in a while. I wouldn’t judge you for it.”

“And if I do, and something goes wrong?”

“Then you go back the next day and fix it.”

“Why are you so obsessed with what I do for fun?” Hux didn’t understand. Was it some misplaced guilt? Did he want to drag everyone into hedonism for the sake of his own depravity? So he felt more at home?

“So hard to think someone might want to make sure you’re happy, huh?” Kylo rolled his eyes, scooped his icy glass up, and wandered away to sit near one of the stages. 

Men and women of all kinds gyrated up and down, but Hux had no desire to watch them. They weren’t _friends_ , Kylo and he. Although Hux didn’t really have many at the minute, so it was hard to... wait. When had that happened? He’d been sociable enough. He’d never had difficulty talking to people, or influencing them. He’d been relatively popular throughout school and the Academy, it was just that he was so busy now, and you had to keep a little distance from your subordinates. 

He had never felt saddened or lonely, just... he’d been...

Kylo sat on a stool, sipping a drink that would dye his tongue bright purple. It was that kind of a colour, the kind that would obviously stain. He was everything Hux _wasn’t_. Although he wasn’t exactly what Hux had expected. “So you thought you’d make me happy with the things that make you happy?”

“Trial and error. Go through various things. Means I get to test them, too.”

“Test? You want to tell me you’ve never been to a bar like this before?”

Kylo’s eyes slanted over to him. “My mother didn’t approve. I had house parties, or I went to others’ houses. I’m not as much of a party animal as the tabloids made out. I _like_ to enjoy myself with alcohol. I _like_ loud music. But because of the scrutiny I’m under, that gets turned into being some bohemian monster.”

So this was parental rebellion? Coming here, to a slightly seedy (but still relatively respectful) dancing bar? With someone who could protect him, but could also maybe enjoy it? Although it was somewhat unplanned, Hux could see the thought underneath. It wasn’t entirely reckless, it was just... less reck than Hux would like. 

“It feels a little impersonal,” Hux said, eventually. “I like... dancing, but... not watching, I suppose. And they dance for anyone. I don’t feel... connected?”

Kylo bit down on a berry, the fruit squelching death throes over his lips. His purple tongue swept over the detritus. “I guess. I just wanted to pretend I was free, but this isn’t really helping. I don’t... I don’t even get to pick who I fall in love with. Hell, I don’t even _need_ to fall in love. Just find a woman the galaxy approves of, put a child in her, surrender my child’s future to the same as mine.”

“They might want to be King – or Queen – if you show them it’s a positive future.”

“And if they don’t? I act like my mother, tell them they have no choice?” Kylo stabbed the wooden stick into his glass. “And what if I don’t want to marry?”

“You said yourself you don’t need to love them, just tolerate them.”

“I don’t...” Kylo looked miserable.

“R— Ky, what is it?”

“I need to be more drunk.” The purple vanished. “You pick what, this time.” 

“Okay.” Hux drank his, trying not to make a face. He wanted Kylo to come to the bar with him, but the man had slumped into a ‘do not move me’ pile. Hux could keep glancing over to him.

He ordered fine, Corellian brandy. Long slugs, on the rocks. When he came back, Kylo took his, but remained on the tabletop. This drink went down too fast to savour it, and Kylo grunted before going to get round three.

This time he brought back something milk-based, sweet like chocolate and covered in golden sprinkles. This one was nicer than the fruity concoction, and Hux could tolerate it. Maybe not multiple ones, because it would be too heavy on his stomach, but as part of a rolling program, yeah.

By the time Kylo opened up again, Hux had lost count of the rounds. Kind people swept away the empty glasses, and Hux’s head was buzzing. He did drink, but not often, and not to excess. Not like this. He was supposed to be keeping – keeping – thingy. Watch. But misery loved company, and his King was sure miserable, he could tell.

“I don’t even know if I _can_ have kids.”

“...they can test.”

“No, no, I mean... like...” A scrunch of his overlong nose, and the King waved a hand expansively. “ _Girls_.”

“They normally prefer ‘women’.” Wait. What?

“Whatever. See? I know so little ab- about them. I know – don’tyoulaugh – how to do the thing, I just...”

Kylo hadn’t slept with a woman? And now he was being pushed towards one for the sake of a dynasty he... ah. Yes. Now Hux could see. “You don’t need to. Naturally. If you want one. If she understands.”

“Yeah, great selling plan. ‘You marry me, become a Queen with no power, don’t get to have sex, but have to have my child and then give it up to the realm’.”

“Not everyone _likes_ sex, Kylo. You could find someone who didn’t. Or if you ensured any children she had were yours, you could...” Let her wander. 

“This is so fucked up. I can’t even – I can’t even pick who I spend the rest of my life with, and...” Kylo slammed his drink down. “Fuck this. I’m dancing.”

What? Hux watched in horror as the Liege Lord of Naboo stood, wavering, on his feet. He held his hand out, and Hux watched in _more horror_ as his own lifted to join it. He was pulled like a pet on a leash out onto the open space for patrons to grind.

Hux didn’t dance. Not in public. Not intoxicated.

Kylo danced.

Hux found his eyes sliding over the taller man as Kylo threw himself into the music. His eyes closed, showing flashes of colour that stood in stark contrast to red cheeks on a pale face. His whole body went into the movements with a strangely ethereal grace that a body that strong shouldn’t manage: he _chased_ the music, his whole frame swaying with more grace than he’d walked with.

Which was when Hux realised the distant stirring in his gut was maybe more than just the mixing drinks. Fuck. He’d known all along that Kylo was attractive, and he had been fine with that as an academic thing. He had no real preference for gender, but he also didn’t really indulge in anything but showertime fantasies and early-morning wanks. And the King was obviously off-limits, or he had been until he’d all but confessed he didn’t want to bed a _woman_.

He was reading too much into this, he was. But here was Kylo Ren, King of Naboo, with his hands in his curled hair. His body said things his words wouldn’t, and Hux felt blood thunder in his ears as Kylo’s hips described imperfect figure-eights, and Hux couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if he—if—

This was a monumental mistake, but he was drunk, and Kylo was drunk, and his hair was black and blue, and he’d seen no tabloids or whispers. Hosnian Prime didn’t have the same taboos about this as his homeworld, and Hux...

...grabbed Kylo’s waist in his hands, stepping in close and feeling the King sway salaciously under his grip. Kylo didn’t open his eyes, but he didn’t pull away. His head thrown back in a jangle of beads, and then his arms draped over Hux’s shoulders, holding him snug as they found a joint rhythm. The contact started simple: where their hands touched, a slide of hip-bone against the other, a brush of chest to chest. 

It was just a dance.

It was not just a dance.

Hux was screwed. He was. He could never have the King, and not just because of his family. The King needed a _Queen_ , and even if he found a woman who didn’t mind, they’d forever be hiding. He’d have to hide this relationship from the world. Have to work for him, after... after...

Kylo tried to kiss him, then, and Hux was so taken aback that he didn’t think to stop him. His eyes widened as lips came up to his, landing awkwardly and drunkenly, tasting of the drinks and terrified intent, and Hux realised _Kylo didn’t know how to kiss, holy fuck_.

Hux slipped a hand behind the other’s head, holding him in place as the dancing lulled to close-up grinding, as he kissed him properly. Kylo let him lead, melting under his harder mouth, parting after the second lick of tongue, opening his mouth with a moan that Hux swiped right out with his own tongue. He took his mouth slowly but surely, knotting hold of his hair and grinding against his thigh with mindless need.

It might have continued if he didn’t hear – under all the music – the familiar sound of a weapon readying. 

Hux pushed Kylo to the floor, but not to ravage him further. The weapon discharged just overhead, and he looked down at the startled King. His lips were red and delicious, and Hux wanted nothing more than to keep ravaging them... but someone had just tried to kill his King.

“Run.”

It was what Kylo had asked him to say, wasn’t it? What he’d promised to listen to.

“Only if you run, too.”


	5. Contractual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which escapes and bloodied knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody injury and violence warnings.

Maybe it was for the best that the assassin chose then to shoot. They’d been exchanging saliva like horny students, not like a King and his... military advisor. And Hux was going to have to work through the ramifications of a) Kylo kissing him, b) himself kissing Kylo back, c) possibly being seen doing both a) and b), but only if d) they survived this attack.

Kylo was back on his feet quickly, his long legs starting to chew the floor to pieces. Hux didn’t know how many attackers there were, but he had odds on there being one, with a single backup operative at most. There had been no obvious support for the droid the first time around, and whilst increasing the operatives gave you more options, it also gave you more liability and loose ends.

The droid had been so thoroughly programmed that his analysts had gotten absolutely nothing from it. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Out and into the alley behind the club, which necessitated the opening of emergency exits and sounding even more alarms. After a weapons discharge, though, Hux was sure the management would not object. There were no other sounds of blaster fire, and frankly most people didn’t seem to have noticed over the deep bass line.

Which was a blessing and a curse in one. Kylo had made good his escape plan, meaning he’d likely cased the joint subtly for exit strategies like Hux had taught him, although he did also worry they were being herded into a death trap. Hux caught up with him, slamming him into the brick wall behind a dumpster, bodily blocking him from any possible injury.

“What are you doing?” Kylo hissed.

“Wasn’t the plan that we capture them?” Hux asked.

“Yeah, but—”

“Trust me. This is my job.” 

Sort of. He’d never actually trained in stopping assassination attempts whilst drunk, dressed like a night owl, and huddled behind a dumpster with his King poking over his head with the few extra inches he had. 

Although the building had security, he’d made sure to carry his emergency weapon. It was small, almost undetectable, and only carried a few rounds worth of power. It was a weapon of last resort and self-defence, and he’d have to conserve the payload for when it was needed.

He was in the process of forcing his breathing back to stable, blinking at the haziness of the world, when a pair of warm hands on his waist made him freeze.

Oh. _Oh_. Kylo was nestled against his back, where Hux had shoved him, and was now breathing over his neck. _That_ was distracting.

Really distracting. It sent an illicit thrill down his spine, and was doing fuck all for his attempt to sober up enough to keep them alive. “Your Majesty...”

“What?”

“Please be less distracting until we’re back somewhere safe?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

The large hands vanished, and Hux missed them. But then there was a sound of someone walking through the back door, and he levelled the weapon. He was ready to fire when he saw what looked like the club’s security, wearing an earpiece and glancing around.

He didn’t notice Hux peeking around the edge, and he didn’t come looking, either, saying a ‘Clear’ and then going back in and pulling the doors shut.

“This doesn’t seem to be working,” Kylo whispered by his ear.

“I got that. But they could be waiting for us out front.”

“...can you call for backup?”

“Yes.” Why didn’t he think of that? “You use my comm. Call Phasma. Tell her where we are.”

“Where is it?” 

“...in my back pocket.”

It was not meant to sound like a come-on, but Hux realised he’d just asked His Majesty the King of Naboo to slide his hand into his back pocket. In an alley. By the side of a strip club. And this was so not helping at all. They were going to have to work out what – what came next – after they survived. Because right now, every little thing was making his dick yell ‘hello’, and that was bad. So very, very bad.

He checked the holdout pistol again, ignoring to the best of his ability the warm sensation of fingers slipping in and... damnit he did just pinch him, didn’t he? Oh, he was going to suffer for that, later.

“Sorry,” Kylo said. 

He was not, and Hux knew it.

The General felt and heard him about to make the call when things went sort of – interesting? Yes. All of a sudden, from up above, someone somersaulted down. _You’re supposed to **look up**_ he chided himself. _How did you forget something so simple as the third dimension?_

Alcohol and a horny King. And now as a result he had an assassin in his face, and Hux loosed a blaster bolt before the weapon was knocked from his hand, and – furious – he roared and put his head down, using his shoulder to impact with the attacker.

He could hear the frantic commentary from Kylo, telling Phasma shrilly that she needed to get here before Hux got hurt. That stung his pride even more, and he was faintly aware of a pain at his side, but then he angled the flat of his palm against the other’s throat, and clawed viciously at the face; his other hand landing blow after blow into the assailant’s midriff. 

They fell down, but Hux wasn’t sure if it was him – or the other – that wanted that, or caused it. All he knew was fury and blood as he scrabbled for the attacker’s hands. There was a weapon he needed to stop from firing, and Hux clawed at the wrist holding it, applying the heavy bone of his brow to the man’s nose. There was a horrible sound, and a sudden gush, and then he heard Kylo.

“I’ll shoot you!”

Somehow he’d gotten hold of the small blaster Hux had dropped, and he was pointing it at the man underneath him.

Whom Hux had apparently somewhat savaged in his drunken fury. The man’s nose was bloodied, clothes ripped, and Hux watched as he made a gesture of surrender.

Which was enough for him. He sat back, and punched the man one more time, right to the temple. No way was that fucker going to remain conscious and a threat.

“Hux!”

“Thank me later.”

***

Phasma had driven the car herself. She parked at the front of the alley, and Hux dragged the unconscious assailant out with Kylo under the man’s other arm. Phasma didn’t blink at all when Hux demanded cuffs, whacking them on the assassin. He made sure the assassin was fully restrained and still breathing, then he sat down.

“...are you... okay?”

“Yeah.” Hux sat down, trying to stop his hands shaking from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

“Is – Hux... is that... all _his_ blood?”

He looked down. His fists were scuffed, but nothing serious. They could do with cleaning. His face felt fine, but he’d have to check in a mirror. His grey shirt was bloodied from the spray, and... oh. Maybe there was something. He pulled up the fabric, seeing a slice that wasn’t deep enough to hit anything major, but would need seeing to.

“First Aid kit is in the armrest,” Phasma called out.

Hux tried to reach for it, but Kylo’s hands slapped him away. “I’ll do it.”

“Ky...”

“Shh. It’s my fault you got hurt. Let me help.”

Hux was feeling a little drained, it was true. He grunted, then sat back, holding his clothes out of the way. He was surprised when Kylo picked up the disinfectant wash first, cleaning out the debris and then applying the Bacta and sealing on the dressing with fast hands. 

“Where did you...?”

“My mother had me learn a lot of things she thought might come in useful,” Kylo replied. “You’d be surprised.”

Maybe he would. He let Kylo clean his hands (and it was mostly the other man’s blood, there) and lightly dab at his knuckles. There were minor marks to his face that Kylo cleaned, and though his clothing was a write-off, he was pretty sure he’d pass any medic’s judgement with flying colours by the time Kylo was done.

“Don’t think you’ll need stitches. That was mostly superficial. We can apply sticky sutures when we get back to the hotel,” Kylo pronounced. “You might have a few bruises and contusions, but you’ll live.”

“And we got the bastard.”

“And we got the bastard,” Kylo agreed, looking down at him. 

“Need to run a search on him that won’t let his employers know we have him.” Which could be either easy as breathing, or actually impossible. And they wouldn’t necessarily know which of the two options was true. “Maybe after I work on him a bit.”

“Work... on him?” 

Hux opened his mouth to answer, then clicked it shut. A pause, before adding: “You may not want to know. Plausible deniability. Sir.”

“I’m not having you do anything I wouldn’t be comfortable defending you for, Hux.”

“Do you want to get to the bottom of this, or not? There are certain, uncomfortable necessities, which—” 

“I’m fine. I’m going to be present.”

Hux caught Phasma’s eye in the rearview mirror. Just a momentary thing, but it was an offer of support from her that he appreciated. She’d do worse, without Kylo knowing, if it came to it. He was too close to the man to escape his attention for long enough. He was again grateful for her flawless, intensely loyal service. Really, he should negotiate a pay rise for her, after this. 

“Alright.” 

“We’re at the hotel. How do you want to get your passenger to the suite?” she asked.

“We’re not going to the suite. We’re going to the roof,” Hux answered. “Find the surveillance weak spots, or make one. Then we can have a nice chat with our friend, here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

***

The skycar managed to do a decent job of blocking off visual feeds when parked in a certain way. Phasma really was a genius at this, and if anyone ever questioned it, all they had to do was claim their eccentric King wanted to stare at the skyline whilst drunk off his head.

It wasn’t that far off the truth, after all.

Phasma helped get the prisoner in place, as Hux couldn’t quite stretch overhead without risking opening up his wound, and also she was a few inches taller. Hux wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get himself surrounded by giants, when he wasn’t _short_ himself, but it had its benefits at times. 

The man was a little shorter than average, blond-haired, stocky and (after a preliminary medical check for injuries) apparently the owner of scars and marks of varying ages. He’d lived a violent life before tonight. His fingertips were deliberately print-free, and a check of his teeth revealed caps on all of them, rendering a dental profile useless. His retinas were intact, once the lenses obscuring them were removed, and that – along with the build, rough age, and unalterable characteristics – would be the only things they could identify him by.

That level of dedication to being nameless and faceless went over and above a simple bounty hunter. This man was clearly a career killer, and Hux knew the minute they tapped his retinal scan in for a law enforcement search, his employers would damn well know about it.

He also had to check for any dead man’s switch on his person, or any transmitting device monitoring his vitals or broadcasting his location. Thankfully he found neither. His employers didn’t want him to be used to trace them. It was sensible, if also somewhat frustrating. 

“I doubt he’ll turn on them,” he told the King, as they both looked at the man’s unconscious slump. Phasma had lifted his hands above his head, trapped them in the shuttle’s closed doors, and left him hanging by his wrists. When he woke, he’d be able to use just the balls of his feet to relieve some of that pressure. 

“Because of how professional he is?” the King asked.

“Yes. I doubt it’s ideology driving him, but I’d need to check by talking to him. Some fanatics are... scary.”

Kylo took that reasonably well. “Plus, I don’t know what they could possibly be fanatical about?”

“The world of politics is more complicated than we’ll ever fully understand,” Hux mused. “I’ll see how he comes across when I start my questioning. If he’s truly mercenary, he may be tempted to provide information for financial gain.”

“Won’t he... lose client confidence, though, then?” 

Hux nodded. “If it gets out he turned on them, he’d probably never work again. So he’d have to make sure that whatever he leaked to us wouldn’t be traced back to him. He’d be without a career if we ruined his credibility.”

“...and it would be the same if you tried to beat it out of him, properly?”

Another nod, grim. “He might give flickers away, with money or... force... but this has to be delicately done. Especially if we’re offering to let him walk away, after.”

Which Hux kind of didn’t want to do. The man had taken a shot at his King – and then nearly maimed or killed himself – and those acts hadn’t endeared him to the General. But he’d get nowhere if the man suspected he’d be killed, because he’d lock down all the more in order to spite him.

Plus, it was just a job to him, almost certainly. And in a way he could respect that. Sort of. Possibly. He could even respect a zealot, but then they really would have to die, just to ensure Kylo’s safety.

And Hux wasn’t sure how well Kylo would take that. He’d work it out, wouldn’t he? He’d realise that Hux had been forced to execute the man. It wasn’t like he’d _want_ to have someone’s death on his hands, but it was also just... you had to, sometimes. In war. And although this wasn’t war with another sovereign state, and although his military jurisdiction stopped the minute they left Naboo...

You had to. And Hux wouldn’t feel a flicker of guilt. And that was chilling to think about, but chilling in a distant way. An emotion he couldn’t connect to, but could understand and describe perfectly from the outside in. 

War.

It meant death.

It was the only way.

***

Hux waited a little for the man to wake, but when he didn’t, he gave him a shot of epinephrine from the med kit. He did lower the dose so it reduced the chances of a cardiac arrest, but he didn’t tell Kylo that it was a measured risk. The less the King knew the better, right now.

As it was, the assassin woke quickly, his feet scrabbling to reduce the pressure on his wrists and shoulders. Hux gave him a moment to come around.

And waited. The man said nothing, but his pale eyes met Hux’s, and they took the measure of the other. He could feel Kylo off to one side, barely restrained in his distress, and he knew Phasma would grab and hold him off if it came to it.

Eventually, Hux had had enough. “Was it money?”

The man didn’t flinch. “Yeah.” His voice was gravelly from the assault, and the obstruction in his nose made it come out all wrong.

Hux could understand that. He killed for money, sometimes, too. “Will they know we took you?”

“Not unless you don’t let me go.” 

Kylo snorted behind Hux. “Why would we trust that?”

“In my best interests not to be known as someone who gets caught,” the man replied, attention swerving to the King. “Best to let you both escape after taking one hell of a pounding.”

“Which would show his dedication to his client,” Hux expanded. Yes. There was potential, here.

“So he tries to kill me and we let him go?” Kylo asked. “Doesn’t he get arrested?”

“Better if you let me go,” the man said. “I can give you... some information.”

“Some.” Kylo didn’t sound impressed.

Hux let him join in, mostly because Kylo could act as his foil right now. And his emotive standpoint was useful, frankly. He could get hurt and upset, and Hux could be the voice of reason. 

“Some information we have reason to trust is better than none, or some we have no reason to trust,” he told his King. 

The man nodded. “I can’t tell you so much they know I did it. But I can point you in the right directions. So if they’re looking into you, they think you came to your own conclusions. If I sell them right out, I’m done for.”

This was going much better than Hux could ever have imagined. He couldn’t have planned it better if he had primed Kylo himself, though he was sure the King’s sincere emotional reaction was at least partially to thank. He’d make quite a good foil as a whole, if he were interested in the future.

Not that you could wheel out the King every time you had a high-priority interrogation. But maybe some of the time.

Hux turned to face Kylo. “It is your decision, ultimately, your Highness. Would you accept? The man is clearly no zealot, and wishes you no personal harm. Contracts aside.”

Kylo wrinkled his nose in distaste. “No more attacking me. No taking any hits on me – or any of my staff. Avoiding Naboo citizens entirely.”

There were plenty of other planets. Hux turned to the mercenary. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

Maybe they stood a chance after all.


	6. Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which discussions start.

“I don’t want anyone to know,” Kylo said, as they moved into his rooms. 

Phasma had been given the job of extracting as much detail (i.e. ‘hints’) as possible from the assassin, and then releasing him when she was satisfied. Which meant Hux was now free to sweep the rooms all over again.

Kylo sat down on the couch in his suite’s living room area, watching him. “Don’t you ever stop?”

“I’ll stop when I know you’re safe, Ren.”

He _felt_ the wince. He did. Across the room, with his back turned, he felt it. 

“I’ll never be safe.”

“No one is ever fully safe.”

“So quit it and come talk to me, for heaven’s sake!”

Hux turned, ready to spit blood. Didn’t he realise how close he’d come to death? How nearly Hux had failed abysmally in protecting him? Didn’t he know how it felt, being so close to _failure_? But what he saw was outright panic, and he knew... yeah. At least part of his industry was to avoid the inevitable conversation.

His King’s clothing was rumpled, torn, stained and bloody. Not in as much of a mess as his own, but he definitely looked worse for wear. Beneath all the paint and pomp was a face paler than he’d seen in many a year, and Hux... 

“Please,” Kylo begged. 

“Let me make sure you’re safe, and I promise we’ll talk about this,” Hux pleaded in return. “I almost lost you to that hired gun, and if I lost you because I didn’t do a sweep of your room... how do you think I would feel?”

That got him a snap of jaw, and then a ducked head. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Ten minutes, I swear,” Hux wheedled. Not just because he was angling for time, either. 

He looked through everything with as much attention as he could. Maybe he should have had Phasma do this, too, because he was still drunk and even adrenaline didn’t sober you up. Only time and metabolism could do that. His hands were shaking when he went to the ‘fresher, opening the cabinet.

Soft footfalls behind, a hand on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t... have. I’m sorry. It was...” 

It was wrong. Terrible. Misguided. They couldn’t be a couple, not who they were. Maybe Hux could take a male lover, but the King of Naboo certainly couldn’t. And would Hux even have met him, if he hadn’t been sent to drag his screaming ass back home to get crowned?

No. Hux would still be safely single. Still have no needs deeper than the occasional rush of blood away from the head. Still be who he’d always been: career-driven, focussed, successful.

“You know why we can’t?” Hux asked. 

Of course he damn well did. Both of them did. He looked into the mirror above the sink, saw eyes that were almost broken. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. 

“I know.” Kylo sounded... hollow. Hurt. 

“You also know you probably only want this because you can’t have it?” Why else would it be such a big deal? 

Kylo didn’t seem to have any friends or confidants. He’d come without an entourage, just his mother and a handful of staff and droids. None of whom he’d shown any interest in, whatsoever. Hux was just the first male of approximately his own age he’d been around, right? It was an issue of access, not of taste. And then the illicit thrill, surely...

“No. I know what I...” Kylo started sure, but it faltered. “Forget it.” He moved, and Hux watched his reflection walk out of the room. 

Deep breaths. Deep. Slow.

He turned to follow, watching the King remove the glittery droplets from his hair. Kylo’s eyes were downcast, his expression more schooled and distant.

“I don’t like women, Hux. I never have. Ever. I mean... not like _that_. They’re perfectly fine as people, I just...” 

“I understand, Kylo.”

“I don’t think you do.” He looked up, then, accusingly. “What do you like?”

“Sir, I—”

“If we have this conversation, we have it honestly. Or you leave, now, and I post you somewhere else with all the pay and benefits you want. If I’m going to trust you, then I need to know you trust me, too.”

Hux was taken aback by the sobriety of that comment, but maybe they’d passed through to the other side. To that place where truths came quickly, if brokenly. To where you couldn’t really help yourself. This was why he didn’t usually let himself get properly intoxicated: you lost control of your boundaries, you lost control of your sense of what needed to remain hidden.

“I like both men and women, yes.” 

“Then you can’t know what it’s like for me,” Kylo continued. “You can’t know what it’s like to... not find... not have any interest whatsoever. You could find yourself a nice woman, if you needed to, and you’d... perform. I _can’t_.”

Hux thought about that. It was true. He could understand not finding specific individuals sexually appealing, but he couldn’t consider how it would be if he was essentially required to act heterosexual despite his body’s protests. “You could use... alternative methods to impregnate them.”

“Yes. I could. And I could find myself a nice little woman who doesn’t mind that I can’t get it in her. And we could make a nice little baby or three who could carry on this nonsense when I drop dead. But I can’t – ever – live with who I might love?”

Which actually sounded awful to Hux. His position – yes. It afforded him freedom. And maybe he would get some negativity thrown at him if he consorted with another man, but he wouldn’t be hated for it, or ridiculed, or attacked. And if he chose to marry a woman, no one would be any the wiser.

Kylo, on the other hand, didn’t have the luxury of being able to pass himself as straight, or marry functionally for his position. And even if Kylo did like women too, a huge chunk of his whole personality and self was off-limits. And that... kind of... _royally_ sucked (pun most definitely intended). 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Kylo went back to pulling out the trinkets. He gathered them from the bed into his hand, and walked to his small case of paints and dropped them – tink, tink, tink – into the compartment. 

“Is that why you really didn’t want to be crowned?”

“A big part, but not the only part.” He shrugged. “I mean it. I don’t really have a choice to change laws, no matter what power people think I have. I’m a monarch in name only. We accepted the Senate’s rules for the most part, and... and I just...”

“Change them.”

“What?”

“Change them,” Hux continued, made brave by the alcohol in his system, the memory of a kiss, the terror when he thought... when he thought he’d die, when... “You’re King. _Change it all_.”

“People wouldn’t want it.”

“Why not? You think you’re the only gay man – or woman – who wishes things were different?” 

“...” 

Kylo was literally incapable of answering, wasn’t he? Hux watched as his mouth opened and closed. He really wasn’t made for this, was he? He understood the system as it _was_ , but he couldn’t see beyond the rules that bound him. Hux was surprised that he just didn’t... seem to think beyond what was in front of his eyes. Was it simply that he’d been drilled into toeing the party line for all his life, or was he completely incapable of independent thought?

Had to be the first, surely. He _wanted_ things, so he could conceive of them, he just couldn’t see a way to get to them. 

“...won’t... won’t... someone try to stop me?”

“Try to stop a progressive monarch? Kylo – they would likely fall over to _assist_ you. Anyone close-minded enough to oppose you, considering the wider civil rights movement – would be an idiot to have their name on any attempt at a veto.”

It was like the light went on inside the younger man’s skull. Like somehow a connection got reforged, like—

“You know that’s why my uncle died single?” Kylo asked, eyes flitting from side to side.

Oh. _Oh_. 

“No, I didn’t, but it makes sense, now.” A lot of things made sense. Luke Skywalker had been intensely private, and no one had ever discussed his singleton status. It had just not... been mentioned. And he’d died alone, and why? Because the law of the land stopped him.

And made Kylo inherit all the same problems. No damn wonder he’d been so opposed to it.

“You really think I can do it?”

“I think you stand a better chance than anyone, especially... especially if you’re willing to discuss your uncle,” Hux replied.

“I think...” Kylo rubbed his arm, eyes glancing away. “I think he’d want me to be happy. He was always kind to me. And it’s not like I’m... it’s not like I don’t agree, or... approve, or...”

No, it wasn’t. If he’d be speaking ill of the late King, Hux would advise against it. But here were two men who the public expected to behave in certain ways, sacrificing their own emotional lives... for what? What did it actually matter if they had children from marriage to continue? They could use surrogates, or they could adopt, or they could make the monarchy something other-than dynastic. 

“Let’s sleep on it,” he suggested. “But I really think if you want this – and you seem to – that you should do it.”

“...even if it means I have to step down?”

“Even if,” Hux agreed. “Either Naboo changes to fit, or... Naboo changes to fit something different. You’re her King. She can either love you as you are, or she can find some way to continue without you.”

Kylo’s eyes were wet, then, and he walked up to Hux. The General drew himself up in – not distress? Alarm? Concern? But Kylo only leaned in close enough to kiss the corner of his mouth, no more. 

“Thank you,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ll... talk about the rest when we’re not drunk. I don’t want to make you... I know I’m technically your superior. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Hux swallowed, his throat suddenly full. He brushed the fingers of one hand over the back of the King’s. “When we’re sober,” he agreed. “You won’t make me do anything I don’t want.” 

Then, after a pause, he added: “But I’m glad you don’t want to try, too.”

Kylo tossed his head to the ‘fresher. “I’m gonna shower, then sleep until there’s no hangover. You should probably do the same. Meet for lunch?”

“Goodnight, Kylo.”

“Goodnight, Hux.”

It was the most surreal ending to the evening ever. Hux couldn’t understand how any of this had happened. Life used to make sense, didn’t it?

***

The morning after was nowhere to be seen. Not by Hux, anyway. He – quite unlike him – slept all the way through til just after noon, at which point his body protested and forced him awake. Accustomed as he was to a schedule, the change instilled a brief period of panic in which he had to check his comm unit for news to ensure the world hadn’t ended.

His head felt awful, but that was because he’d stupidly forgotten to refill his body with water to cope with the diuretic drinks, and he’d pissed away most of his hydration before he’d thrown himself into bed, naked and damp.

It was probably good that he’d not gotten sick from that. You could, couldn’t you? Or was that an old wives’ tale? He peered blearily into the ‘fresher mirror, looking at his slightly bloodshot eyes under a mess of black and pastel hair. At least the blood had washed off. 

Memories came back brokenly. It wasn’t as if he’d _forgotten_ , it was more like he took his time remembering. Flashes of tastes (fruity, bitter, sweet), the sway of hips, the softness of lips and tongues, the fire and the fury of a connection of fist to face... it had happened, hadn’t it?

Hux lifted his shirt. There was a dressing applied slightly at an angle, and under he could feel the itchy sensation of healing. Nothing else was as dire, but he did have marks on his hands that wouldn’t be easy to conceal. He’d _told the King to completely rewrite the legal system_ , hadn’t he?

It wasn’t as if people got prosecuted for being homosexual (or bisexual and actively not-heterosexual only). The days of it being criminalised were gone, but that didn’t mean it was – well – _promoted_. Accepted, maybe. Hux hadn’t really ever thought deeply about it before, having never met anyone he’d be interested in sett—in... 

He sat down on the toilet seat. Was he really... considering that? It was ridiculous to go from a drunken kiss to thinking about – well – marriage, but... these were exigent circumstances. The King couldn’t go around dating as idly as a commoner could, so he had to consider the possibility that if it went well, that it would... maybe end that way. If they both wanted it to. And if he wasn’t prepared for that – and for a life in the limelight – that he should do the honourable thing and never start down the path to begin with.

The time for just being casual, no-strings-attached, no-press-knowing fuck-buddies passed about the time he drunkenly suggested the King formally legalise gay marriage, whilst drunk, having beaten an assassin into unconsciousness only an hour previous for daring to shoot them while they were kissing. If he’d wanted just – well – stress-relieving, mad, lust-fuelled sex... (and that did sound _somewhat_ appealing), giving Kylo the signal of ‘why don’t you rewrite our planetary constitution, then we can adopt squawling brats and live happily ever after’ had likely put an untimely end to such frivolities.

And Hux... was... okay? With that? Maybe?

He pushed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, making sparkles dance over the red-black. Sex was nice, if you did it well. Damn nice. But he’d had the option of seeking meaningless sex and hadn’t in years. It just was... okay, but not worth the effort of pursuing. And maybe if it had been right on his doorstep with big brown eyes and a kiss-me mouth he might have, but... he sort of also... thought that stability and security and common feeling might be nice. Maybe.

Just. Kylo was... he was everything Hux was _not_. Feckless. Brash. Open. Spontaneous. Disorganised. 

He was also more kind-hearted than he suspected the man knew. Smart, but in different spheres. Emotional and forthright. Prepared to make sacrifices, even if he disliked them and complained in private. His public face was much more party-line than his private one. He made Hux laugh, sometimes. Which was more than most anyone else could. He... challenged him. Intrigued and infuriated.

Kylo Ren was the kind of man who would keep Hux on his toes. They would either complement one another perfectly: peaks levelling out troughs, skill supplementing lack; or else they would burn out in a glorious blaze of incompatible opposition. It would be a dream team, or a nightmare. 

So far it had been more of the first, even if Hux would never admit as much, even to Phasma. He’d found himself more powerful than ever, more trusted than ever, and more _challenged_ than he could remember feeling in his adult life.

So. Yes. Maybe, if Kylo honestly felt the same. If he could respect Hux as his equal, in the bedroom, and not pull rank over petty differences. If the King wanted... Hux thought he could try.

If Kylo wanted that, too, and it wasn’t just because he thought Hux looked attractive and didn’t rebuff him the first chance he got. If Kylo was serious about ‘Serious’, too. Which he had absolutely no guarantee about.

All of a sudden, an unbidden thought: _what would the Queen Mother Leia think_?

Hux hoped she would approve.

Wait, did she even know her only son was gay?


	7. Proscenium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the assassination attempt before.

Lunch turned out to be somewhere between unpleasant and essential. Hux didn’t exactly feel atrocious, but his stomach was both skipping in delight and swirling like a disgruntled whirlpool at the things on offer. Maybe it was the nerves, more than the alcohol. He was pretty sure he’d drunk more fruit juice than the monthly suggested portion size before he’d touched anything remotely solid.

It was, on some level, hilarious. In that kind of – that way that if you started to laugh, you weren’t sure you would stop. There was bread, and he had to resist the urge to pull tiny pieces off in distraction. 

“So. About... last night,” the King started, stirring his caf for way longer than was strictly necessary. The spoon tinkled, tinkled, and tinkled some more.

“Captain Phasma is preparing a report on the intelligence we gathered,” Hux offered. Entirely in the interests of being professional. 

“I see. When will it be ready?”

“We have preliminary results so far, but nothing that could lead to any arrests.”

The bread had doubled in pieces. No... quadrupled. He’d not had a nervous tic like this since he was a _child_.

“I see. And I also wanted to ask your advice on another matter. A matter of... constitutional reform.” Kylo’s spoon stopped, and he was now holding his caf against his chest like a shield.

Hux wanted his own mug. He put down the bread, and wiped his fingers clean on a napkin. “I’m not a legal expert, so I would assume you need to approach the High Court of Naboo with your amendment, and they do the required work.”

“Alright. I’ll reach out to them.”

Hux wanted to scream. He’d never been one for affairs of the heart. Sure, he’d dated in the past. He’d had flings, and he’d even had one-night stands. Not many, because mostly he was unimpressed with other people. They never seemed to fit up to his exacting standards.

Not that Kylo did, either. He was a wreck. An absolute wreck. High-strung, self-centred, impulsive, and he’d never put in an honest day’s work in his life. He’d been born to every level of privilege known to man, short of being heterosexual. Just because he was pretty and had a nicely-toned body didn’t mean it excused his personality, or his life decisions.

Hux really needed to stop thinking about the heat of his body, or the supple feel of his lips. It was just animal lust, and it was beneath him, and he’d been thinking... no. He hadn’t been thinking. Last night he’d been drunk and ridiculous and there was no way they’d want to make this a formal thing and they’d hate one another in a week and it was all very, very, very _foolish_.

And Kylo was now awkwardly stuffing pastries in his mouth. Which did not make him look attractive. He looked like a small rodent, faced with an unending winter around the corner and a present pile of treats. Crumbs got everywhere, and Hux... could not possibly find that appealing. Nope. So they were fine.

“Will that be all?” Hux asked, cleaning his hands for the fifth consecutive time.

Kylo looked _betrayed_. Stung. Angry. Hurt. Mad. All in a heartbeat, before it was wiped and replaced with dull distance. He swiped around his lips with his thumb, then nodded. “Unless you have anything to report...?”

“No, your Highness.”

“Then you’re dismissed.”

***

Hux’s hair was still black and pastels, though he’d resumed wearing his uniform. He was not going to ask the King for the removal solution, no. He would ask Phasma, instead.

“Is this a gender thing?” she teased. “Because you’re the one with the dyed hair. Didn’t you plan a retreat?”

“I didn’t know I was in danger,” Hux sighed. “Not... hair-related danger.”

“It looks good on you.” She leaned over, pushing fingers through for a moment, before letting go. It was, perhaps, the most physical contact they’d ever made that wasn’t work-essential. 

“Can you find out how to undo it, or not?” he asked.

“I’ll try my best, Sir.”

He felt wrong with it on. Felt... felt like maybe that had been another person, a Hux he was not. A Hux who took a few more chances. Who played a little fast and loose, and who...

“Would you like me to ask you things, or is this one of those moments you would prefer we pretended hadn’t happened?”

He glowered at her for asking that. “It’s nothing.”

“If you insist.”

And that was worse. Far worse. Because now she’d got him thinking about it again. And he didn’t want to think about it. It was stupid.

“He’s gay.” There. He’d said it.

“Yes. And?”

Hux narrowed his eyes at her. He couldn’t tell if that meant she already knew, or meant she didn’t think it was important as a distinction. 

“He can’t marry. And have children.” A shrug. “Well, not traditionally speaking, of course.”

“Yes. And?”

“I’m not the interrogation subject, Phasma. You can cut that right out.” Maybe he sounded a little snippier than he intended, but it was getting under his skin.

“I do have eyes, you know. And anyone with eyes can see the way you two look at one another. I’d run a book on when you’d kiss if anyone was stupid enough to bet against me... oh. Oh? _Already_?”

Hux normally prided himself on being discreet. Being professional. Right now, he felt like his whole face was hot, and it was irritating in the extreme. Probably it was the bodily lag from sleeping in too much. “Shut up.”

“Sir, far be it for me to comment on personal affairs... but I think you’d make a handsome couple.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen. So although I appreciate your support, it’s entirely superfluous.” And they weren’t going to be a couple, anyway, and... damnit. He looked up from the tablet. 

“Captain.”

“General.”

“How... did you know?”

“Sir, do you really want to know?”

Finger and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Please, tell me honestly.”

“You don’t preen and posture so much in front of anyone else, Sir. Even when we were both much lower ranked: no matter how highly placed someone was, you were professional and nothing more.”

“You’re saying I was unprofessional? With the King?” 

She tilted her head. “No. Not quite that. I am saying there was more to your behaviour, you were... trying to compete, or impress him. And he was doing the same. You both of you barely could pull your attention from the other.” And then, a little smile. “It was nice to watch. To see you act human again.”

“I was inhuman before?” This honesty thing was over-rated. Hux was pretty sure he was coming out in hives.

“You were... stagnating, Sir. You’d reached your goals. And now you see there’s other goals, I assume? His... reforms?”

Oh, yes, those. “I’m not going to be involved in the reforms. I’ll just be his glorified bodyguard.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Phasma.”

She smiled, far too sweetly.

He was going to need to talk to Kylo, wasn’t he, after all?

***

Over the pretext of the very real security update, he arranged to see the King that evening. Pretext. Like two assassination attempts weren’t important. They were, but there were so many balls in play right now that Hux’s head was swimming.

“So, did the information pan out?”

“We were able to trace some... irregularities. The assassin gave us details about surveillance and access codes, and from that we could follow skycar details, contractors, and trace some things back through shell companies.”

“In Basic, what have you found out?”

“We’ve traced it back to... back to an organisation. It’s... a para-military operation, called the First Order. They’re guns for hire, basically.”

“So they were contracted to kill me?”

“That’s the thing: I think they _did_ the contracting, rather than took it. I think someone high up in the organisation is responsible. I don’t know their agenda, but they’re clearly involved. They might want to use their defensive staff as an army, a private militia.” It was just too much of a coincidence for him.

“I see. What’s our next move?”

“We continue to work at understanding this, and possibly we ask our senator to find out anything they can about other suspicious activity on other worlds. If we go through the profile of planets that were attacked last time, and if we look into this... Snoke? Yes. Snoke: he’s the head of the organisation. Look into his past, and affiliations.”

The King leaned back. His hair was back to normal, unlike Hux’s. He seemed as pristine as if it were three days ago. “Sounds good.”

“And – with regards to the other... issue?” Hux looked up for his consent to continue. “I should like to be involved. If you wish me to be.”

“In what capacity?”

Well, here they had it. “In any your Highness – ah, _you_ – would like.”

“When do we fly back to Naboo?”

“In the morning.”

Kylo nodded, and seemed to consider it for what felt like an eternity. He had to know what Hux meant by this, right? 

“Why don’t... well. We have one night, away from everyone. If we want to. We could... test some things out?” the King suggested.

Hux didn’t know if that meant sexual positions, or brainstorming how to keep the Chief of Military in on political restructure and legal overhauls. Or both. “Can we maybe not go anywhere that leads to me almost killing people again?”

“I think I’ve had enough near-death experiences for at least a week,” Kylo agreed. “And... I suppose I owe you an apology for that. After all, you did get pretty badly hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.” Not much, but he had. Still, it was nice for him to apologise. “We did manage to not only survive, but achieve our objective.”

“And find out you know how to dance.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “Did asking me never occur?”

“Kind of thing you want to see with your own two eyes, General.” 

And now Kylo relaxed enough to look amused, again. The brief hours of impossible tension were bleeding into the past, and Hux felt the knot unhitch in his chest. It was dumb. It was – okay, he was going to have to face up to the facts: he’d been... upset? That Kylo seemed so quick to dismiss their potential, because it was... intriguing. 

Awkward. Complicated. But _interesting_. Compelling. Very, very compelling. And that was before he even considered what it would mean for his professional career. Head of the military was one thing, potentially... joint head of the whole planet of Naboo? Yes, _that_ would be quite a coup.

Weirdly, though, Hux was sure that – although it would be _nice_ to step up – he’d find Kylo just as interesting if he dissolved the monarchy in one fell swoop tomorrow. How many times did you find someone with so much power and possibility who actually wanted to use it? Even if it was semi-destructive, it was a controlled explosion. Controlled, in part, by him; but controlled, all the same.

“So,” Kylo continued. “We’re going to avoid visiting Stabbity Alley, but is there anything that’s a calculated enough risk from the options you cleared?”

“Well, you did say you wanted to see a show; it was on your list. Was any of that list genuine?” Because he’d not put on ‘strip joint’, although likely because Hux would have vetoed it on principle. 

“Of course. It just wasn’t... comprehensive.”

That answer was satisfactory. “I’d like to see a show. Do you have any preferences?”

“Why don’t you pick?” Kylo suggested. “After all, we’re doing _my_ list, you should get some input into the situation, too.”

“Alright. I’ll go check the schedules.” Hux tilted his head. “I don’t have any more civilian clothes.”

“Good job your uniform looks nice on you, isn’t it?”

Hux did not flourish under that, he did not. 

***

It was actually not a bad night, once the awkwardness of evening-after was dispensed with. Hux picked a show with a minor cult following, something about the end days of the wars surrounding the formation of the Republic. It was, perhaps, a little too close to the nerve because of Kylo’s legislation-changing urges, and the attempts on his life. However, it was just a fiction, and maybe it even helped him think about it, framed differently.

He was not going to ask that, not this early on in a trial-dating. Which... this was? A date? 

Standing out the front of the theatre, off to one side as the crowds slowly dispersed (many humming the most catchy tunes), waiting for their skycar’s turn to approach so they could get in, Hux realised he could get used to this. 

“I thought that was actually quite a brave production,” Kylo said, beside him, drawing him from his momentary reverie. “Presenting the other side with a relatively even hand. It’s difficult to handle opposing political views around a war without demonising.”

“I think, in some respects, the distance will help. There are fewer and fewer people alive who remember that time period, now.” 

“True.  Although I couldn’t bring myself to side with them fully. Maybe it’s because the Republic won and wrote the Empire in its own words in the history holos, but... for all the Republic has flaws, I think I’d prefer it to a single, unchecked ruler.”

“Like a King?”

Kylo laughed, and it was a genuine laugh. “Like a King. A King who rules at the grace of his ruled, now, I think. I’m a curiosity. A... relic?”

“You look a bit young for a relic. Maybe an heirloom?”

“That is the worst pun I’ve heard this year.”

“Well, I am rusty. Not much room for humour when you’re talking about bombing people.” The lower ranks had more of a sense of frivolity, but as he’d grown more advanced in rank, either people felt uncomfortable joking around him, or people just didn’t _get it_. 

There were lots of people waiting for their skycars to get to the front of the pickup rank. Hux had his eyes on everyone, just in case someone wanted to make another attempt on Kylo’s life, but he didn’t see anything overly worrying. He finished another survey and then met Kylo’s eyes, startled to find him looking so intently.

“You’re really dedicated to your job, aren’t you?” the King said.

“It’s how I got where I am, yes.”

“It’s more than that. You take... satisfaction in it?”

Hux wondered why that was worth saying, and then he realised that Kylo, perhaps, understood it in a different way to others. “Yes. I chose this career because it’s a family one, but also one at which I can excel. And one I can thus... feel good about. And...” 

“You want to protect people.”

No one had accused him of that before. He kept his cards as close to his chest as possible, but it was true. On some level he did. “It’s how I get paid.”

He should maybe have been expecting this kiss. After all, it was their first date. Hux somehow still didn’t see it coming, and it wasn’t until Kylo was facing him square on, eyes closing and face leaning in to ask by proximity that he realised it was a shy request. Or sort of shy. 

Hux didn’t want to discourage him when he seemed to be picking up a little more on social cues, and also when he asked rather than forced. He lifted a gloved hand, the heel of his thumb grazing across his King’s cheek as he moved to curl his fingers behind Kylo’s head. Into the dark tumble of curls, and he closed his own eyes and tilted his own head. 

Without the alcohol, or the confusion, it was much calmer and sweeter. Kylo just brushed his lips over Hux’s, and it was a light, pleasant touch. Hux didn’t move back, but he tilted his mouth away for just a moment. 

“Is that okay?” Kylo asked.

“Yes. I just wanted to remember it,” Hux replied. He couldn’t help the smile on his face, so he leaned in to continue their chaste kisses, and they almost didn’t hear the skycar beeping insistently at them. Hux let go with reluctance, and stepped back to open up the car for him.

“I think we can try this back home on Naboo, too,” Kylo said. “If you’re... prepared for the media attention.”

“I think it’s an acceptable price to pay.” His insides felt nicely warm and tickly, and his eyes kept wandering from lips to eyes and back again. Yes. He did want to try.

“Still... I could do with some more practice kissing, I’m sure.” Kylo looked like he thought he was being sly, and it was ridiculous (and oh so slightly endearing). He settled in his side of the vehicle, one hand on his knee, rocking it left and right.

“His Majesty has but to ask.”

“Then come here and kiss me.”

“It would be my pleasure to.” He knew his own amusement and satisfaction were blatant right now, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really, actually kissed someone and meant it. Not with such possibility ahead of him, and he wasn’t even thinking politically in that assessment, either.

Kylo was a quick learner.


	8. Courtesy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naboo hosts an unexpected guest.

 Hux felt much better now his hair was back to normal. He kept touching it when he didn’t think anyone was looking, as if it might revert to treacherous colours if he left it alone for too long. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so important, but it felt it, so he accepted this as one of those things.

The minute they landed, they were summoned to one of the libraries by Leia. Summoned was the only way to put it: Kylo might be King, but he was still caught up in Leia Organa-Solo’s apron strings. Hux could feel the resentment bubbling off Kylo in waves, and he thought maybe they would need to discuss ways to manage his mother’s expectations afterwards. She had been responsible for him for eighteen years, and it was hard to give up on that kind of a relationship. Especially as she’d abdicated her potential claim to the throne for...

...oh yes, love. Well. Leia had given up the Kingdom for love, Luke had given up love for the Kingdom, and here was their successor, trying to have his cake and eat it. Hmm.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

“...unless you have a strong wish not to be. I could do with someone on my side.”

Hux smiled inwardly. “She’s also going to want my head for letting someone shoot at you.”

“All the more reason that we get this beasting over with together, then.”

What he did not expect, when they got inside, was for Leia to be joined by a man who looked like he’d worn every single day of his life twice. It wasn’t even as if he looked _physically_ old, it was more... something weary in his shoulders, in the lines on his face. 

“Dad.”

“Ben.”

Hux _felt_ the tension in the room heighten even further at that. 

“I don’t go by that name.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll always be Ben to me.”

Kylo was the man’s legal name, always had been. Hux wondered if ‘Ben’ had been a pet name, or a family only one. Which he’d have to look into, because if Kylo had chosen professional and public over private, considering how much he hated his public figure, that had to mean something. Unless he wanted to tarnish everyone’s perception of him? Hmm.

“Mr. Solo,” Hux said, trying for diplomacy. “I’m G—”

“I know who you damn well are, son.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Leia cut in, before anyone could say any more. “Could we sit down and have a civil conversation?”

“I don’t know, will my father stay for it, or will he run out before the end?” Kylo snapped.

“Kylo...”

Hux couldn’t help but take the King’s side in that, which might be because he was biased, but he _did_ have a point. He’d been the crowned monarch for how long, now? And this was the first they’d even heard of him?

“Fine.” The King sat down, arms folding petulantly across his chest. That was less easy to sympathise with.

Hux took a seat on the other side of the three-seat couch, delicately folding down. Leia and Han both had armchairs of their own, and Hux wondered how long Leia had considered the layout of this little contretemps. Did it come subconsciously, or did she work at it? 

“Before we start... Kylo, your father has something he’d like to say to you,” Leia began.

“Oh, and he can’t speak for himself?”

Hux bit the inside of his mouth. Although this was ridiculously uncomfortable, it was – on another level – almost hysterically funny. He didn’t often let Kylo’s sense of humour affect him much, but he’d clearly inherited both his tongue and his temper from both sides of the family. This was going to need a blast shield and popcorn.

“Look... B—Kylo, I’m sorry I left. I am. But I’m here, now, to try and help.”

“And how can you help me? You run away from every problem you ever have.” 

Understandably, he sounded hurt. Hux would feel hurt, too, if he felt much of anything for his family. His own had never really been what you’d class as ‘close’, though, unlike this one. He was lucky if he spoke to them for more than two, five minute bursts a year. 

And he liked it like that.

“Kylo, you don’t really know why your father left,” Leia reminded him. 

“No. I didn’t get a chance to ask, on account of him leaving when I was fifteen.”

Han winced. Deeply. “Okay. I owe you an explanation, too, I guess. Look... I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, not for you. But you know some of it: you know the media came down hard on me from the minute I courted your mother. You know they were in our lives constantly.”

“Still are,” Kylo muttered.

“Yeah. They are. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t handle them looking into everything we did. I know, I should have realised they would when I fell in love with your mom, but I didn’t. Or, I thought I could handle it. But when they started picking apart everything, what I wore, what I said, how often I held your hand as a kid...” Han swallowed, and the words sounded more painful.

“So you abandoned me?”

“Yeah. I did. But I didn’t do it because I didn’t love you, or your mom. I just... it was making us unhappy. I still loved your mom, but I couldn’t... be happy with how our life _was_.”

“You don’t get to just pick and choose, Dad! You were my _father_. You were supposed to _be there for me_. I was a **kid**.” 

Hux now really didn’t want to be here. Fifteen. Kylo had been fifteen, and Han had left his family, without really explaining? Although, even if he had, what fifteen year old wanted to hear that their father was unable to be there for them? Even if it wasn’t because of a flaw in Kylo, it had to feel like it: a child that the parent didn’t love enough to put them first.

“I know. I know. Maker, I... I am so, so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I was... son. I couldn’t. I couldn’t handle the way they looked at me, the things they said... I got angry, and I took it out on your mom. I yelled when it wasn’t her fault, and I yelled when it was nobody’s fault, and it was... I became someone I didn’t like.” 

Hux had to admire Han for the admission, no matter how late, or how hard it was. Admitting you’d made such a grievous error in judgement was... oh. _Oh_.

“You know about us,” Hux surmised. 

“Pretty soon everyone will,” Leia replied, smoothly.

“...that does not sound good,” Hux said, under his breath.

“I received a courtesy call from one of the leading media companies,” she went on. “Which was actually both a courtesy and a request for us to give them an exclusive, and our spin on the images they captured. Apparently you had fun in the arts district?”

Hux felt his cheeks go pink. They’d seen them kissing in front of the theatre? He’d thought he’d... oh. He’d only really been looking for assassins, not for paparazzi, or private people happy to make a few extra credits on top of their salaries. 

Kylo, to his own credit, did not flush. “So you’ve come home to ask me not to be gay, Dad?”

“Like anyone could stop you... no. I’ve come to talk to you both about what having a private relationship in the public eye is like. So you can make your own damn mind up, but so you know what it means. For both of you.”

Not ‘for both of you’, but ‘for Hux’. He realised, then, that Han was himself. In this situation, anyway. Hux would be examined as intently as Kylo, but Kylo had been born to this and experienced it his whole life. Hux had only really been seen by his superiors and relatives, not subject to mass opinion polls and personal scrutiny. 

Kylo glowered. “You. Left.”

“I know. And I can keep saying sorry, but it won’t change what I did. I left. When you needed me. But I wasn’t... I wasn’t good enough to be what you needed from me. I wasn’t good enough to handle the pressure, and be the father you...” Han’s voice stopped, then, almost on a croak. He wavered in his seat, and...

This. This was awful. Was this his lot? Would Hux become Han, resentful of his spouse, paranoid about popular opinion, unable to stay with those he loved because of the toxic outer world? Would he be just as inadequate?

“Your mom... she was... she was better for you.”

“He still needed his father,” Leia said. “Like I told you back then.”

“Yeah, but he needed someone who could be that, and it wasn’t me.” Han shrugged. 

“And  you didn’t think how... that might have made me feel?” 

Kylo was nearly crying, Hux realised. The words were nearly sobs, and he felt so much empathy, for once. He normally didn’t feel much but discomfort and a vague twinge of sympathy, but now... this was awful to be around.

He could see both sides, he really could. He didn’t even know which was right. Did you stay, and act like an asshole, and be miserable? Or did you leave, and be slightly less miserable, and not take it out on your wife and son?

“I thought... I thought I mustn’t be good enough. I thought...” Kylo got up, walking around the couch, pacing with the air of an angry animal, ready to rip out a throat. “I thought you didn’t love me enough to stay.”

“Ben... Kylo...” Han got up, then, and walked closer. “I loved you so much, but I was... I wasn’t... I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I should have found some way to get you and Leia out of the public eye, I...”

Hux looked over to Leia. She was also sad, and when his eyes darted to the door, she nodded. 

“I need caf. General?” Leia prompted. 

It was not subtle. It did not need to be.

***

Leia did, actually, go to make some caf. Hux was almost surprised she knew how to. 

“How do you take it?” the Queen Mother asked him.

“Black as the night, and with an artificial sweetener if there is one.” 

She nodded, and set to work. Her hands moved in silence, and he just... let his mind wander, for a while. He couldn’t hear the two men in the other room, which was a blessing. 

“I tried to get Han to come home earlier, but he wouldn’t. So... in a way, I have you to thank for that.” Leia finished her preparations, handing Hux his cup and nursing her own. “He’s a stubborn man.”

“He’d have to be.” Hux saw her brow raise in surprise. “You’re a strong-willed woman. I’m sure someone who didn’t have their own stubborn streak wouldn’t last five minutes with you, or interest you for two.”

The woman smiled, then, and shook her head. “I can see why my son likes you. Perceptive and not afraid to show it, or to speak your mind.”

“Did you... know?”

“That my son is a homosexual? Yes, I knew. He hadn’t told me, hadn’t told anyone, I don’t think. After I watched him fail to notice women for long enough, but try to hide his actual attraction to men... I knew.” 

“And you don’t mind?”

“Mind? What is there to mind? He’s my son.” Leia shrugged. “Even if I didn’t approve – and let me reassure you I do – I’d still love him. But I’m...” 

“Concerned that not everyone will feel that way.”

Leia nodded. “My brother was also gay. Attitudes were a little less forgiving, then. He always planned on finding someone he could settle down with politically, maybe even romantically, and ignore the lack of sexual attraction. That was his aim, but he was taken from us too soon.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It... happened. I don’t believe Luke was unhappy, though I am sure he could have been happier. I... just want to make sure I do the best for my son.”

Hux considered it for a moment, looking at his reflection in the oilslicked caf. “I understand it would be – will be – uncomfortable. And that my position will be questioned. And that there will be negative responses to us, but...”

“You feel... drawn to him.” It was a question, without the lifted tone. 

“Yes. And not just...” Physically, though he wasn’t about to say that. “I think we could be good together. I think we’d be _dynamic_ , but...”

Leia took one of the seats by the small breakfast bar. “I remember the feeling; Han made me feel the same way. We were very, very in love, though... you could be forgiven for thinking we hated one another. It was one of those ‘dynamics’.”

Definitely it ran in the family. Hux wondered if his parents had ever felt anything dynamic in their lives. He was pretty sure he’d been born as an afterthought, pushed out from his mother’s thighs between courses at dinner. “Would you do it again?”

“Marry Han?”

Hux nodded.

“Yes. I would. Even if it was wrong... I still love him. I always have, I always will. And it got me Kylo, and I love him. I wouldn’t undo him existing, not ever.”

Well. Yes. Of course she’d say that. But... “Han? Would you have... done anything differently after Kylo was born?”

“If I knew a way to make Han stay, or for us to remain together... yes. I... missed him terribly. But it was killing him to stay with us. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but... love isn’t always enough to keep a couple together. Sometimes it just doesn’t work.”

“And if you were me? Or Kylo?”

“Only you know if you can withstand this. We’ll have to release some statement now the first shots have appeared. We have only a few hours to work with our PR people, so we can either let you stand by his side, or he... will have to go out there alone.”

Hux couldn’t do that to him. Not... no. He couldn’t abandon Kylo to the wolves. “I’m not about to give up on him. With all due respect, I think we have potential.”

“You do. Or I would be giving you a very different speech,” Leia admitted. “We’re going to give you both a crash course in what it’s like to be in love and in the public domain. We can’t help with the... specifics of your situation, but we can do our best to support you both.”

He smiled at that. It was... touching. Reassuring. A tiny, polite little nod to acknowledge it. Somehow, she struck him as less of a woman of outright affection and more of subdued recognition, for all her fiery temper and sharp tongue. 

Then he realised he hadn’t heard any gunfire _yet_ , but, “...do you really think we should have left them alone together?” 

“Kylo needs to talk to his father. Han is many things, but he’s not cruel. They need to work out how they handle the fact that Han left us both.” A slow, laboured breath in and out. “As do I, in time.”

“I can’t imagine how he feels.” He couldn’t. He was... going to be dragged into things he’d never considered, wasn’t he? As much in private as in public.

“What matters is we all love one another. Even if we make mistakes, if we try to do the best for all of us, we’ll muddle through. Although I might put Han under house arrest. I’m sure Kylo can write a brief law about that.”

Hux laughed, just slightly. “And if he tries to leave, I’ll arrest him.” 

He wondered if Kylo would try the same on him, if Hux ever felt he had to go. Not that he planned on it, but it... was an unsettling thing, there, on the edges of his mind. If they did fall apart, how... would Kylo react? Would Hux be forced off the planet? He couldn’t imagine Kylo would want him to remain.

And Hux had never wanted to live anywhere but Naboo.


	9. Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which PR is King.

Hux had never really had to do a press conference before. Not really. He had to give information to his PR team to answer media questions on operations, but ‘it’s classified’ usually got around most of their requests. This wasn’t one of those times.

He was dressed in his formal uniform and, beside him, Kylo was in finery, too. Naboo royalty tended to the delicate and convoluted when on display, and Hux felt almost naked by Kylo’s side. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt butterflies like this, and he hoped to everything he believed in (and some he didn’t) that it wouldn’t show on the holos.

“You sure about this?” Kylo whispered in his ear. “We didn’t say you’d be at the conference. So you can bail up until I go out there.”

“I’m sure.”

“We only had one date. Unless you count the strip club.”

“Maybe don’t mention that where anyone can hear?” Hux felt a bit of the tension go, remembering. It had certainly been an interesting first date. Starting with alcohol, a middle section of bumping and grinding, and finishing off with interrogating a subject and struggling with the knife wound he’d given him.

“You do realise we’re going to have to work hard to beat that.”

“Maybe with less mortal peril, though? Excitement is fine, but I can only take so many vibroblade wounds before it reduces my effectiveness.”

Kylo grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard before trying to let go. Hux wouldn’t let him, and he smiled across at him in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. 

“We’ll get through this,” he told the King. 

“And I’ll owe you one hell of a real date.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

***

The public, apparently, were not as negative as they’d been braced for. Hux had been fine with them going through worst-case scenarios, especially as the most negative things would likely happen away from their faces, but it had still been touch and go in his head whether the press corps would go straight for nepotism, homophobia and dynastic succession.

Instead, there were questions about how they met, had they known one another before, how serious was it... and obviously the more political ones about how the line of succession could be secured.

Weirdly, Kylo handled this part well. He announced he was opening up reform of the monarchy, consulting on a change in the bills, statutes and charters. He announced his dedication to equal marriage rights, and he repeatedly told everyone it was too soon to think about things like children. It was time to settle the state, first, and to open up new doors. 

Hux answered the few questions thrown his way with as much grace as he could, and then it was all over. Kylo pecked him gently on the cheek (many more holo images, and Hux blushing lightly in all of them) and then they withdrew.

“I’ll be interested to see if that was all a false, public face,” the King said. “And if they’ll slate us behind closed doors, after smiling in our presence.”

“Maybe some of them will, but I think a lot of them were positive. You’re young, and you’re – ah – dynamic and forthright. You’re promoting change, and the _other_ young and progressive liberals will like that.”

“Takes me out of the market, though.”

Hux frowned. “You mean... you were going to exploit being single?”

“No, but if it got me more attention, I wasn’t going to complain. I was pretty much resigned to being single, you know. And dying intestate and upsetting everyone.” 

Although Kylo was smirking, Hux wondered just how... accurate that was. He suspected there was a kernel of truth underneath it all, and that... it was kind of heartbreaking. Thinking that he might well feel so incapable of being himself...

“What changed your mind?”

“You really need flattery that badly, General?”

“It never hurts.”

Kylo whacked him on the arm. “I’m going to get changed. This is far too much finery for me.”

“It looks good on you, though.”

His King snorted. “It’s playing havoc with me, though. It’s a bit too... old school for me to feel comfortable with it. I prefer to do my own.”

“This date you owe me?”

Kylo’s head tilted, and the ridiculous way they’d styled it into curls up high swayed above his brow. “Yes?”

“Think you could dress like you did for the club?” It was a silly thing, but damn had he looked good in retrospect.

“ _Yes_.”

Oh, good, they were on the same page.

***

All the way until the evening meal, Hux kept checking his comm for the news about his now-boyfriend. Yes. He supposed the word was correct, now. Normally people didn’t announce their romantic status to the galactic media right after their second date, but they’d slipped up by locking lips in public.

Although, had he the time over, Hux might still do it again. It was a pure expression of affection and interest, not a socio-political message, crafted by spin doctors and delivered as a soundbite at the most effective time. 

Scrolling through the popular news sites, he read mostly positive articles and some political speculation about the future of the realm. There were more than a few dossiers on them both, summing up known facts and speculating on others. His were pretty bland and vanilla, focussing on his career and a few testimonies from people he’d known in the past. Kylo’s... were more colourful. Most of the people seemed to think he’d be a calming influence on the King, and that was flattering. 

There were some people who said less than nice things. Hux read those, too. He hoped Kylo didn’t, because they were unpleasant in the extreme. A few even suggested executing or sterilising one or both of them, and that was... just not fair.

But overall, the honeymoon period was on. Everyone wanted to congratulate them, and pat themselves on the back in public for how Progressive they were. There was some interesting data presented about homosexual marriage laws by planet or system, indicating where it was considered on a par with the heterosexual equivalent, and where it wasn’t even possible.

It wasn’t as if it was still criminalised anywhere, but the tolerance levels varied, as did the attached rights. It actually made for a fascinating cultural study, and Hux wondered how it must feel moving from one planet where your marriage was recognised and on a par with ‘traditional marriage’ to one where they allowed you to be gay, but not a couple. Not that he planned on moving. 

Eventually he remembered he actually still had a job. He checked in with Phasma, who was now organising for infiltration into the First Order, read mission reports, and was promptly late for date 2.5. By the time he realised he was due somewhere, he was already five minutes late and he didn’t even have his clothing on fully. Or – the meal time clothing, anyway. He shucked his shirt off, and put one of his civilian ones on in its place and hurried to the dining hall.

They’d agreed they would keep it low key, private, and behind closed doors as much as possible. Especially when they were still fresh on the news cycle. Not to mention they’d been working together for some time, but they still didn’t know how they’d click socially and romantically (or if they would at all). And now Hux had to deal with the thought, as he skidded as quickly as was decorous through the halls, that if it _didn’t_ work out, they might have to pretend it did for a while, or work harder at it, for the sake of national stability.

No wonder Han had cracked up.

Kylo looked amused when he finally entered. “Nice of you to join me.”

“Sorry. I’m not used to having demands on my private time. I—” 

“Forgot?”

“I was going to be more tactful than that,” Hux said, and took the seat he was waved into. The table was set at one end, though it stretched much further down to accommodate many more. They sat facing one another, and Hux was amused by the array of silverware on the table. This wasn’t even high, formal protocol, it was every day for the royal family. 

Hux had always liked the pomp, on one level. It showed you were meticulous, it showed you could follow rules, much like any soldier did. 

“Do you think we should have a policy of no-work during some of our... time together?” Kylo asked. “Unless it’s life-threatening, or otherwise essential?”

“If we can avoid it, yes. We might find popular topics of conversation become politicised, though.”

“Like now?”

“This hardly counts,” Hux argued. “We have to discuss what we can, and cannot, discuss.”

“Okay.” Kylo’s fingers drummed over the surface. “So. Who are you?”

“I – what?”

“You know what I like to do, now. I put it all in your list. So far, I know you like your job and musical theatre. That’s not really much to go on.”

“I’m just... the same as everyone else.”

“Right. So. Music? Books? Movies? Long walks by the beach? Sports? Painting? Running through the streets naked?”

“I keep the nudity behind closed doors, actually.” Although now he was panicking, because he didn’t really do much that revealed anything about him. He would put the holo on as background noise, but he didn’t make the effort to watch anything religiously. He liked movies when he saw them, but not enough to go out of his way to catch them. 

“Okay. So... private nudity, check. Next?”

Hux looked up in gratitude at the droid that came to serve them the soup and bread rolls. That would buy him a moment or two. He made a mental promise not to shred this roll. “I do like music. I mostly have been too busy to have any dedicated hobbies or pastimes.” 

“That makes it hard to relate to you.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you like, and we work out which of those things I can also enjoy?” He felt a little snitty about it. He’d never felt like he was deficient, never felt his life was lacking in satisfaction or pleasure. Maybe a different kind of pleasure, but he’d been happy as he was.

“Okay. I like music. Dancing. I like video games, which you already know. Movies. I like... travelling. Experiencing other cultures. Eating in new places, seeing new worlds...”

Hux nodded. “Alright. So far, all of those sound both practical and pleasant.”

“This isn’t a job interview, you do know?” Kylo exhaled nasally. “I also like junk food, and staying up too late.” 

“What kind of movies and games?” he asked, pulling things back into focus.

“Movies... if it’s got a good story, I like it. Uh. I like action, adventure, some horror, comedy... uhm. Animated stuff, you know the ones that are supposed to be for adults to enjoy taking their kids to?” Kylo looked embarrassed by the list, and it was – well. Endearing. “Games I’ll play anything. If you’re playing together, it’s good to do a co-operative one. Less hating one another, huh?”

“Okay, but you should know I am so out of practice on those that you might just want me to watch.”

“I can teach you.”

“You might still hate me.”

“Well, we can try.” 

The soup went without any bread-murder. Well. Other than for eating. Hux’s nails also survived without being ravaged in stress, and actually, this was fine. If a little odd to negotiate off-duty activities. 

“You can also rest assured I won’t... force you to stay with me, if we don’t work out. If you don’t mind pretending for a little while, we can break up amicably.” Pause. “Unless you want to fight for fun, but I think my parents would be annoyed if they found out we staged it.”

“Kylo... you’re already trying to get rid of me?”

“No, but you like plans, don’t you?”

Hux rolled his eyes. “Let’s plan on it working, first?”

“Okay. I can live with that.”

“So. Why don’t we try a movie, next? But that’s not the big date you owe me.”

“Oh? Then what is?”

“You’ll see.” Hux had a few ideas, already percolating. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

Oh, would it ever.

***

“Sir?”

Hux nodded at Phasma to continue into his office. “What is it, Captain?”

“We’ve found a way in to the Order. I believe I’ve located an ex-employee who the Order has been relentless in disenfranchising. He tried to go public on some things, but a smear campaign against him discredited his testimony.”

“Are you sure it was smears?”

“Relatively sure. I believe we could bring him on-board, and he could help us infiltrate their base of operations and find out information to leak to the authorities.”

“Alright. Where is this asset located?”

“Last known location was in the Western Reaches. We believe he may be on an impoverished world called Jakku.”

“And this asset, does he have a name?”

“We only have his employee ID, which he unfortunately tried to use as his leaking handle.”

“...and this is who you want to ask for information to destroy the Order?”

“Every asset has some merit. Even if it’s to lead us to someone with more merit.”

Hux waved. “Get it done, please. And... good work, Captain.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll report back as soon as I can.”

It was progress of a kind.


	10. Refreshment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which testimony is sought.

“We have the ex-employee, Sir, but... there was a complication.”

Phasma rarely reported anything but stunning success. She was perhaps as competent as Hux himself, but he knew everyone had to deal with the vagaries of reality at times. “What is the complication?”

“He... has acquired a counsel. A... self-appointed counsel, I believe.”

“He’s lawyered up?”

“Not precisely. I believe the person is just acting as his advocate out of concern. I do not believe she has any formal, legal training.”

Hux thought that through. “So you’re saying he has a female friend who is protecting him from a moral and personal perspective, rather than financial gain?”

“Yes.”

Well, that didn’t sound like a problem. Frankly, if the boy were foolish enough to use his old employee ID as an online username, he was asking for trouble. Although he hadn’t seen how evangelical the advocate was, so... 

“Are they both prepared to talk to me?”

“I believe so. But there may be some promises needed on your side.”

“Promises?”

“Of indemnity, and other assurances of safety from prosecution or the testimony being given over to prosecutors.” 

“Fair.”

“And... I believe she wanted citizenship of Naboo for both of them.”

“...do either of them have any serious criminal record, or any indication they are planning any criminal activity?”

“Other than the possibility of corporate espionage for us, no.”

“I’m sure the King would approve, then. Especially if this – Finn? Has been the victim of the Order, also. Alright. Use your common sense, and arrange that.”

“Will the King be present?”

“No. I’m going to maintain plausible deniability as and when I can.” And he was going to need to be smarter about it, going forwards. The bounty hunter had nearly been a terrible disaster.

She nodded, slowly. “Will that... work with your relationship?”

“If it doesn’t, then our relationship won’t work. There are times I will need to take risks and decisions myself, so that I can take the fall.”

“He won’t like it.”

“I know. But it’s a deal-breaker. I won’t let any romantic ties put his safety at risk, even like this. That’s why he has a head of military services, after all.”

“Sir. I’ll arrange the deal, now.”

“Thanks for this. For... all of this.”

She smiled, then, and it was small but genuine. “It is a pleasure, General.”

***

Phasma was right. Phasma was always right. Maybe he should just retire and get good at video games, the planet would be in safe hands if he did. 

A forthright, protective friend was good in theory. In practice, however, the way she spoke told volumes about past experience of exploitation. It was the slightly stilted speech of someone who had learned (at their peril) about the importance of formalised agreements and had the paranoiac’s fear of being manipulated.

He could empathise, but it was draining.

“Look... I know you have no reason to trust me, Miss Rey, but do you honestly thing the Naboo Military Leader would meet face to face with you both to trick you, when it could all backfire terribly for me?”

“You could pretend it didn’t happen.”

“You’re right, I could, but not after all these loops you put me through before we discussed the topic in hand. I don’t work for the Order. I’m carrying proof of that, by the way. It’s still healing.”

“They hurt you?” Finn sounded horrified. He spoke less, but that was at Rey’s instruction, he knew.

“One of their sub-contractors did, when I – ah – took offence to his attempt.”

“Attempt to what?” Rey asked.

“Kill my King.”

Finn looked sideways at her, then, and Hux caught the exchanged expression, fleeting as it was. It did not surprise or shock Finn, but it did alarm him. It had been a deliberate play on Hux’s part, to gauge his response. If he was surprised or disbelieving, then he had no really useful information. If he stonewalled or he flinched, well. 

“You are not surprised to hear it?” he asked, looking right at the young man. 

“Don’t,” warned Rey.

“Look... isn’t this what we wanted to stop?” Finn shot over to his friend.

“Yes.” She stared at him, and then looked over the desk. “May we confer in private for a moment?”

“Of course. There is an ante-room there,” he said, waving. “You may discuss things and return when you come to a decision.”

“Thank you.”

Hux watched as they got up, and there wouldn’t really be time to do anything while they were gone. He could start reading something, but his attention was divided as it was. Plus, he didn’t like stop-starting important tasks. He pulled up the messaging unit, and started tapping out a quick note to ask Kylo if he’d be free for—

The door opened, and the two walked back in. They were both holding their heads high, and he saw how Finn’s heels clipped together, his stance military proud. 

“We’ve agreed I’ll help you,” he said. 

“You’ll protect him, and make us both citizens here,” Rey reminded him.

“Of course, that was part of your terms.”

The young woman looked a little appeased, then. “No loopholes?”

“No loopholes. Full citizenship. No releasing your involvement.”

Finn offered his hand, sincere and eager like a puppy. “Deal.”

Shaking hands meant little to Hux: although it was supposed to seal a pact, if he said something then he damn well meant to follow through on it. Still, it would be impolite to refuse, so he shook the proffered hand, and nodded over the grip. “We’ll put a stop to it. Or do our best.”

“You’re the first person we thought might,” Rey admitted.

Hux found that felt nice to hear.

***

When Hux finally got through his work, he stood up and cracked out his shoulders and fingers in one. It was far too late. Far, far too late. He’d missed any sensible options for food at the cafeteria, and he wasn’t really hungry anyway, so. 

Hux knew, of course, that three meals a day was supposed to be the norm. He usually managed it, and sometimes went as low as two. Breakfast was always a thing, and then there was a steady stream of caf until his stomach needed more substance. He went to put his mug in the dishwasher when he saw the urgent, pale-gold blip on his comm device. 

Personal. He did not get many personal messages, really. He already suspected who it was from before he slid his fingers over it to... ah, yes.

His Highness, formally requesting his presence. Hux looked at the chrono: it was already very late, and if Kylo wanted to hang out at this time... was he officially requesting something scandalous? Because if anyone found out he was in the King’s rooms late at night, he was sure the gossip reels would know about it, come the morning. 

And then there was the question of whether Kylo meant this as a booty call or not? The message was decidedly tame, though as he was – Hux was beginning to realise – new to this, that came as no surprise.

He was a bit tired. Not massively, and he could honestly have pushed himself for several hours longer if need had been, but his work had come to a natural stop, and so had he. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have anyone think they were sexually intimate, let alone _be_ it, but...

What the hell.

***

When he got to the King’s rooms, he found him on the couch, swaddled in a blanket. There was a small row of bowls with snack food in, and something that looked vile and utterly poisonous to drink. Kylo was gaming, then. He got lost in his games at nights when he couldn’t sleep, Hux had worked out. It was healthier than some vices, he guessed.

“Hey,” Kylo said, pausing the race he was in and looking up.

“Did you call me here to lap me and embarrass me again?”

“We don’t have to play if you don’t want to. I was just...”

Hux scrutinised his face, and then: “You’re worried about the Order?”

He was getting better at speaking Kylo Ren. Once, he’d have written this off as immature time-wasting, but now he saw it was a coping strategy. There was a very real reason to be distressed, and he was... well. Staying in and gaming was actually not all that bad. No one got hurt, not even Kylo’s liver. 

His King shrugged, and tossed the controller lightly to one side. “You aren’t taking care of yourself.”

“Oh?” He noticed the question dodge, of course he did. 

“Yeah. You’re working too late. And you’re not eating right.”

“And this is ‘right’?” Hux asked, nodding to the weird assortment of fried and otherwise poorly prepared ‘foods’ Kylo had on offer.

“Don’t have to eat right to tell when someone’s not.”

Hux sat down, then, and looked at the food colouring stains on Kylo’s fingers. This was who he was dating? A man-child who thought it was good to summon his boyfriend around to see him... well. To see him in his natural element.

There was a power in this, too: a vulnerability offered. Hux could easily tell all sorts of stories to the press, make his fortune, and leave. He could ridicule Kylo, if he wasn’t dedicated to this planet of theirs. If it didn’t go against his own, personal moral code. Maybe that’s why he was invited to see Kylo’s face bathed in the flickering light of a pause screen, because Kylo knew he was too caught up in the wider picture to be that selfish. 

“I want to get to the bottom of this... Snoke thing,” the General admitted.

“You need to be fed and watered and rested enough to think straight, Hux. Or so I’m frequently told. Personally, I find a heavy dose of liquid stimulus combined with mindless, fictional violence and unhealthy carbohydrates works wonders. As does sleep dep. You either solve the problem, or end up laughing hysterically until you fall asleep on your controller.”

“You do realise that’s a really inefficient and specific method of working?”

“Hey, I’m a very inefficient and specific sort of a guy.”

Fair enough. He still didn’t want to partake of the carbohydrates, but he thought the other things weren’t too bad. “What are you trying to work out?”

“What... killing me would actually accomplish. We’re a small planet. Trade links, but if we vanished tomorrow, the galaxy would keep moving. Minorly infamous because I – as King – exist.  But we’re not that important, galactically speaking.”

Oh. Well, now. Hux grabbed the spare controller, and nodded gratefully when Kylo reset the level so they could do it side by side. “I know. Unless it’s that they think that us being ‘small’ makes us an easier target. I’m wondering if we’ll find them re-evaluating, and leaving us alone...”

“Or if it becomes a matter of pride?”

“Precisely.” Both would be frustrating. On the one hand, it would obviously be horrific to keep needing to fight off assassination attempts. One day, someone would slip up and Kylo would find himself dead. On the other hand, them giving up would mean less leads to track them down, to get to the motivation underneath. Would mean there was more chance of something sinister happening they couldn’t stop.

Either way, unless the antagonist, the cause of their fear was found and brought to justice, they would live their lives forever in fear of a bolt or an explosion they hadn’t anticipated. Death would remain on every corner. 

Hux didn’t like the way his thoughts were turning, so he tossed his controller down. “I’m not letting them win.”

“I know you won’t.”

“I mean it, Kylo.” And he did. He meant it as deeply as he could. 

The game trundled confusedly on without input from either of them, and then Hux leaned over. He grabbed the King’s shirt, pulling him in for a rough, hungry kiss. It was more force than skill, and he loved the way the younger man just seemed to relax into it. Fingers touched his collarbone, his temple, and then he pulled back for air.

“You’re annoying, but I want you to remain alive.”

Kylo’s brown eyes glittered, amusement curling his full lips. He wasn’t in the slightest bit offended. “I kinda like you, too.”

“I’m not sure I want to...” Damnit. Why was he being so shy about this? “Not yet.”

Thankfully, Kylo understood the verbal reticence. “I’m okay with kissing. If you like kissing.” 

“I like kissing.” 

Hux did. A lot. And he’d be lying if he said Kylo wasn’t damn attractive, but it was already going faster than he’d like because of their ridiculous public personas. He didn’t want to hurtle headlong and get too deep and then find out it was a bad idea. 

It was a lot. He didn’t let people into his bed – or heart – on a whim. Even if he was currently sitting in the dark with him, and getting cheese-dust fingerprints all over his uniform, with a King who only just put down his own controller.

“I’m not very good at it,” Kylo said. “I – ah – there wasn’t much... target practice for me.”

Oh. Oh... no, he supposed not. He stayed in close, still holding his shirt. There were fingers still glancing against him, breath on his face. 

“Would you like me to give you lessons, maybe? Drill you in technique?”

“I’m a kinaesthetic learner.” A large nose pushed against his own, and then those lips pried and tugged at his own mouth, asking without words for more.

Hux let go of his shirt. “It’s as much about the build up as it is the main event,” he murmured. The digits on his chest splayed, and he pushed them up and up: thumb stroking over the triangle above his collarbone, his fingers going behind to the nape of his neck. He leaned back from Kylo, making space that meant his hand was the only point of contact.

“Not just the mouth?”

“No. It’s everything. Everywhere you touch...” He stroked behind an ear, “...as much as where you _don’t_.” 

Kylo’s breathing was going ragged, and Hux smirked. He knew this, he knew how to play someone physically, and it was a skill he took great pride in. Just the fingers of one hand, playing over the back of his neck, teasing at stray hair, finding the swell of his skull behind his ear. The King’s eyes closed, losing himself to the sensation, and he moaned so, so delicately lowly.

Damnit. He wasn’t supposed to take this too far. It would be more fun if he didn’t, though he’d be walking home stiff-legged if they didn’t... ahem. 

“Do you talk? Or is it just touch?” Kylo asked. His deep voice almost earthquaked the room, finding the resonance and making everything shake in sympathy with his arousal. 

“You can. You can speak quietly, and make them lean in. Tell them how much you want them, how much you care for them. Tell them you’re dying to kiss them, to see what their lips taste like...”

This was so, so much fun. Kylo’s eyelashes were long and drew tombstone shadows on his cheeks. Pale skin like a blooded moon, and his chest rising with reedy, needy little breaths. He felt a hand on his knee, and it burned so hotly.

He was sure Kylo wouldn’t go much higher than that, but he didn’t need to. The heat from his palm was sure and wonderful, and he saw the man look up for permission, or forgiveness, maybe.

“How do you go in for the kiss?” Kylo asked.

“Once you know they want it, you can go in any number of ways. You can hold them still...” and his fingers curled around to hold him, the jump of a pulse under his digits. “...close your eyes and breathe over their lips, or you can smash in so hard it almost hurts, or you can mix things up...”

Hux did go in close, but he didn’t touch. A little puff of air against Kylo’s mouth, and then he kissed the very corner of his lips, pulling a smile from them. 

“How did you get so good at this?” his King demanded.

“I had more opportunity than you.” But he didn’t want to brag, or to make Kylo feel inadequate, so he kissed his way over his lower lip. Around to the other side of his smile. “They were simply target practice.”

Kylo laughed, and his hand came up to cup Hux’s face. Long fingers trailed over his cheek, tilting it just the way he wanted. He didn’t go too fast, or too heavy, following the path that Hux had laid out. The slow, deliberate care made Hux’s chest tighten in response, and he found himself tugging at Kylo’s hair. They were going to need to be much, much more careful. 

“What next?”

“Well... it depends on what your partner likes,” Hux admitted. “Some like biting – gentle biting – some like sucking, some like tongue...”

“What if they don’t know what they like? Do you ask?”

“Normally you try, and see if they hit you or ask for more.”

Kylo’s head tilted, and Hux knew that was a request for just that. He leaned in, and pulled the man’s lower lip into his own mouth. He ran his tongue over it, suckled just a little, then pressed his teeth in to judge the response. It was most assuredly positive, because Kylo’s other hand kept him in close, so he pushed his tongue past the King’s lips and into his mouth.

Kylo liked that, too.

He also took to learning better than Hux had hoped, though he could have done without the taste of snacks. Next time he’d make sure the man gargled, first.


	11. Attendant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hux hatches a plot.

Hux had struggled to remember why he wasn’t bedding Kylo then and there. They’d kissed and touched softly for the better part of an hour. By the end of it, he’d been furiously hard and trying to ignore the fact with every fibre of his being. He was sure Kylo felt the same, judging by the dazed and satisfied look on his face, his kiss-swollen lips and slowly-heaving chest.

But the General didn’t want to leap into this too fast, and so he’d pulled back and told him: “Later.”

And Kylo had groaned, and grabbed a cushion and dropped it on his crotch. “Later.”

It had taken every inch of his self-control to stand up, then. To call down to the garage for a pool car to take him home. To find a suitable stack of flimsis thrown into a folder to hold strategically. The driver hadn’t said a word, so he’d tossed him a sizeable credit tip and walked as slowly as he dared into his home.

And then, alone, slammed himself ass-first into the door and _groaned_. Kylo’s lips had been so soft, his tongue so firm but supple, his hands so broad and sure. Hux could imagine what the King would look like if Hux pushed him down onto his lap, if he’d demanded Kylo learn how to kiss other parts of him, too.

He would, wouldn’t he? He’d gladly take the opportunity to suck on Hux’s cock. He’d probably fantasised about it for as long as they’d known one another and... shit, shit shit shit shit.

Standing, back to the front door, he unfastened his belt buckle and fished roughly through the layers of fabric to find his leaking cock. Had Kylo already beaten his off, once he’d waddled out the door? Was he lying in a sweaty, mournful heap right now? Or was he going at it again, trying to get another round out of his long-ignored dick? Fisting it dry and punishingly, humping at a body that wasn’t there.

He bet Kylo had a nice dick. He bet it was in proportion to the rest of him. Long, nicely shaped, full, and prone to leaking deliciously whenever he was too turned on. It would be so sensitive, the first time. It would – like its owner – be gagging for the end result, and Hux would have to tame him, to break him in, to teach him patience. Red and stiff and Kylo would do whatever Hux asked him to, right? 

Yep. Those lips. He could order those lips to curl around his cock, right here. He could all but see Kylo kneeling, his expression gratified and adoring as he tried to learn how to satisfy him. Messy licks with a hurried tongue, slobbery kisses and then an attempt to take him in deep. Choking over it, giddy with his affection. Brown eyes begging for guidance, and...

Hux beat his cock, then and there. Hand around his shaft, his fist in his mouth to keep the moans to a minimum. He couldn’t help it: the image was just too much. He’d not been laid in so long, but he hadn’t really been worried about that until this minute. Until he’d thought of Kylo offering him any and everything. He wondered if he’d even let him come on his face, so he wouldn’t have to gag on his cock. If he’d stay there and let Hux paint his cheeks and lips, and...

That did it. He bust his load all over his hand, the muddled fantasies making him as giddy and easily triggered as he expected Kylo would be, their first time. Damn, damn, damn. He was supposed to be better than that. He was supposed to be controlled, to be the bigger man. 

But here he was, head back on the door, semen splattered over his uniform, his hand, his carpet. Panting, chest heaving, eyes closed. There were tooth-shaped indentations in his hand from a stifled scream, and he hadn’t even made it to the damn ‘fresher, had he? If he’d done it in the shower, there’d be nothing to clean up. Fuck’s sake.

He hadn’t been that ridiculously unsanitary and unprepared since... ever? He’d always made sure his bodily urges were satisfied at the right place and time, but he’d... he hadn’t even been drunk. He’d just been so infatuated, so aroused, that...

Hux sighed. He had to clean up before it dried.

***

The next day was strange. Hux was pretty sure he had ‘I jerked off to thoughts of Kylo Ren’ written across his forehead. How could anyone look at him and not realise? Everything his hand touched had to know he’d been self-abusing, beating his cock off to thoughts of his King. 

Well, if they didn’t already think it, the way he jittered and kept flushing red was going to give it away. It wasn’t like... well. People did have sex. All the time. That’s how the majority of new people came into existence, after all, and people had more sex than babies happened. So it wasn’t something he should be ashamed of, but it was also... private?

It was. It was private. And he didn’t like the thought of people speculating on his nocturnal activities. 

He was, maybe, a little too sharp with people as a result. Maybe. Just a bit.

Maybe more than a bit.

“Sir... may I speak to you... about a personal matter?”

Phasma did not do ‘personal matters’. Phasma came to work, and she went home. Much as Hux had always done. 

This was a bad sign.

“You may,” he replied, with some hesitancy. More than a little.

“Is everything okay?”

What? He forgot to say that aloud, just staring at her in confusion.

“With... his Highness?” she continued, in the face of his ignorance.

“Yes, why? Has something happened?” He was pretty sure he’d be informed if something had. Was Kylo acting strangely? 

“It... ah...” 

“Speak freely, Captain.” Wait, maybe that was a mixed signal: giving her permission, then reminding her of her subordinacy. Too late, now, the words were out. 

“You have been in a... difficult mood all day, Sir. We—” (So, it was multiple people, now.) “...are worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sir.”

“I said I’m f—” Oh, there it was. He was being short-tempered with everyone, wasn’t he? Just because he’d not gotten laid properly. Which was ridiculous, because it was his choice. He’d put the brakes on, and now he was being testy about it. 

She had the decency not to say ‘I told you so’, just to wait for his wave of irritation to crest and break. 

“How... unprofessional am I being?”

“No worse than the average person, but by your own standards...”

He took that as a compliment. By his own standards, which meant normally he was as impeccable as he strove to be. It was still troubling that he was failing his own high bar, but he could get back up there with some effort, surely. “Things are going okay. I just... it’s... we’re taking it slowly.”

“Do I need to give him the ‘you hurt my General and you will pay’ speech?” she asked, her lips ghosting into a smile.

“I think he already knows he would pay for it,” he replied, with a gracious little nod. “It’s just difficult, trying to date your boss. Whilst the whole galaxy knows.”

“Still, I could loom over him. Make sure he takes you seriously.”

She was rather impressively tall. Hux didn’t know how he’d managed to find both of them and wind up looking like he was diminutive, but he was confident enough not to be intimidated by it. “If he does try to break my heart, you will be the first to know.”

“Good.” 

Hux watched as she let her tongue poke over her lips. She wanted to say more, but she wasn’t sure of herself. 

“I appreciate your concern,” he said, more softly. “Truly. And I want you to know I would offer the same knee-capping service if anyone tried to hurt you.”

“You’d have to beat me to it,” she answered, smoothly. “But thank you.”

“Was that everything?”

“No. I have also found out that the First Order are supplying private security to some upcoming events.”

“They wouldn’t be foolish enough to let an ‘accident’ happen to a paying customer, surely?”

“No. But they might well use their access then to implant problems for later, or to get in-depth information that would help them to plan future attacks.”

Oh, she was good. “We can’t hire them outright.”

“No, they would suspect something.”

“...get me the list of where they’re going to be contracted. If we can arrange to be invited to a meeting, or a gala, or something that they’re working with another group...”

“We can honeytrap them?”

“Precisely.” Yes. This could work very nicely indeed.

“I’ll get right on it, Sir.”

“And get me Finn, if you’d be so kind. I have some specific questions to ask him.”

***

Now that Rey was satisfied with their arrangement, she’d kindly agreed to let Finn talk to him. Which was useful, more useful than he’d ever hoped for. Although he’d been a bit of an idiot about his attempted leak, he was actually really rather perceptive about his former employer’s working practices. 

And far too honest. Far, far too honest. He had that kind of sincerity that would work wonders as a teacher, or as a counsellor, but which didn’t translate over to the more politically... grey jobs such as soldier, or ‘spy’. His face was an open book, and there was nothing _wrong_ with that, it just... meant he should be on a different shelf in the library.

Hux questioned him intensely over mugs of caf, and Finn just happily told him everything. It almost felt like a confessional, more than a meeting. He wondered how the man had ever wound up in a profession that was so counter to his natural personality, frankly.

Armed with plenty of information, he had the first stirrings of A Plan. It deserved the mental capitals. It was going to be wonderful.

The Order would not know what hit them.

***

Hux held out the dossier. Kylo looked confused, but took it.

“Why am I suddenly promoting... what is this even about?” his King asked, his tone incredulous.

“The galactic protection of workers’ rights, your Highness.”

“I read that in the précis, but what does it actually _mean_?”

Hux felt proud about his choice. He suspected it would appeal to his King, which was why he’d chosen it from the list of upcoming events. It would be completely in-character, and thus go entirely under the radar. It helped that the King seemed to actually have several social issues close to his heart, rather than being a distant, uninterested ruler.

“It’s a symposium on ways to protect galactic rights for things like hours worked, minimum wages, maternity, paternity... all those elements. Plus protective equipment and safe working systems.” 

“Aren’t these already regulated by the Republic?”

“They are, but there have been loopholes. Zero hours contracts, where they can retain people and prevent them from registering for unemployment, but also fail to give them a living amount of work. Or claim off-world hours to provide support, thus getting around local timing restrictions...”

Kylo’s eyes widened. “What? And they get away with this?”

“People find loopholes in every system, you know.”

“Why didn’t you say? We’ll go. But what can I do to help?”

“For one, you’ll be able to pledge that any worker based on Naboo, or working for Naboo, gets the rights the symposium is fighting for, and add more legitimacy to their claim.” Which would actually do some good for the common worker, which was an added bonus.

Kylo nodded, eyes distant for a moment. “Why are you... bringing this to me? It is hardly a political matter, Hux.”

“No, quite.” He allowed himself a moment to savour Kylo’s confusion. It had absolutely nothing to do with the military: they were all paid for by the state, and complied with (or exceeded) the Republic’s regulations. “The Order will be providing security. We’re going to lay a trap for them.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Well, then. Sign me right up. When do we depart?”

“In four days’ time.” Plenty of time to pack.

“This is really something, Hux. I... I’m impressed. Even more so that I might actually help someone out while I’m doing it.”

“I’m glad you approve, your Highness.”

Kylo tilted his head. “I’d like to take you out, one night, when we attend. Maybe to somewhere a little more savoury than our first big outing. You think you could find somewhere? Somewhere that would interest you, too?”

“Research is my middle name.” Along with Efficiency, of course.

He’d already drawn up a short list, for just such a situation. He wasn’t going to tell Kylo, though.


	12. Schema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Hux tries to trap the Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some content warning for violence and injury. Nothing horrific.

The symposium was hosted on the planet Toydaria, deep within traditional Hutt space, near enough to Nal Hutta to benefit from their infrastructure, but without being as politically sensitive as Nal Hutta itself. 

Hux was not overly fond of the Hutts. They were supposedly legitimate businessfolk, but the stench of crime and corruption lingered on anything they touched. He would much prefer to go to events on core worlds, but there was a statement being made by confronting the Hutt clans, and that could also be why the symposium organisers had hired the ‘neutral’ First Order to guard them.

It was also hot. And muggy. The natives had evolved in this swamp-land environment, and done little to change the planet itself. It was tolerable if you landed in the designated areas and stayed in the climate-controlled hotel complexes, but venturing further afield (usually by train) meant risking a goopy, insect-ridden nightmare.

Which meant they’d be bottlenecked inside the air-conditioned buildings. All the better to keep marks from wandering, to force them to give up secrets by degrees. All the better, too, to leak those ‘secrets’ to an over-confident spy. 

Their hotel here in the city of Yeap was pleasant enough, if you could tolerate the smell that seemed to permeate everything. Even the host species had a pungent aroma of their own, and Hux longed for the days of crisp, clean sterility.

Later, he told himself. Later. He could take Kylo (or Kylo could, more correctly, take _him_ ) somewhere high rent and fancy as a reward for uncovering this plot once and for all, and bringing this Snoke character to justice. He peered out at the green, temperate swamp outside as he waited for Kylo to finish changing.

There was a knock on their adjoining door, and he called out to let the King know it was unlocked. 

A pause. It didn’t open, so he walked over to it, hand reaching for the handle. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but all of a sudden a sharp pain stung his neck, and his hand went up to touch it instinctively. 

Hux couldn’t work out what was going on. One minute things were normal, the next? His legs sort of collapsed at the knees, his vision going weirdly dark around the edges and the sound of his heartbeat and failed attempts to speak sort of looped over and over and—

***

Consciousness came back slowly. Far, far too slowly. Hux had only been drugged a handful of times in his life, and none of them had been fun. One had been supposedly ‘recreational’, but he hadn’t actually been asked to consent to it, and the person in question had felt the long arm of the law pricking fingers at their collar shortly after.

Those times, though, he’d come to his senses a lot faster. This time it was a fight from the get go. 

He couldn’t see, but he could hear. That was weird. He tried to move his head to see if it was just that he was looking away from any light source, but he found that his body wasn’t actually co-operating just yet. 

So. No movement. No vision. He could feel, though, and he wished he couldn’t. The inside of his skull felt like it was either shrinking, or else his brain was swelling to press against the edges. Behind his eyes were white-hot stabs of needles, and his mouth felt horrifically dry and dusty, like he’d lapped over a dirt path with a flat tongue. There was no sensation of moving, but that meant nothing. Well. There was one sensation, but it was a slow, slow spinning that was too uniform to be external. That was likely just his inner ear or something, and not an actual spin cycle. 

He was lying on his side, sort of. He thought. His cheek started to feel cold and under pressure, and although he couldn’t move his hands, his sense of where parts of him were told him they were bound behind his back. His legs felt bent unnaturally, and his back ached. Were they hitched together, in a hog tie? Possibly. He tried to make a noise, but mostly he heard his breathing get harsher in response. 

The last thing he could remember was... was... his mind kept stalling, flitting through bizarre snatches of memory as he grasped for the one he wanted. The taste of toothpaste, the minty... green... green... green muggy swampy... Ah! Toydaria.

Toydaria, and the hotel. He’d heard a knocking, and gone to answer the door. Movement came back slightly, and he tried to rub his head against his shoulder. He remembered the prick of a dart, and knew he’d been drugged. 

Which... probably meant his trap had been a counter-trap, didn’t it? Meant he’d been outfoxed? Yeah. That made this whole situation so, so much better. He’d been so self-assured that...

...how had they done it? Did they have a mole inside the Naboo staff? It couldn’t ever be Phasma. He’d believe it was Kylo as soon as believe it was Phasma. He wasn’t sure quite how he’d become so convinced of her loyalty, but he had. It was deep, deep in his bones.

Kylo obviously was not responsible. Neither was Leia. Han – for all his flaws – did actually _love_ his son, so it wasn’t him. They hadn’t been so supportive of their relationship out of falsehood, he was sure. Before they’d talked he could have maybe suspected them, but not after.

Was it the kids? The two young things, Rey and Finn? They’d gone through extensive lie-detecting tests, and both he and Phasma had been assured of their loyalty, though... oh. Well. _They_ could have been booby-trapped, just like Hux had planned to do to one of the Order’s soldiers. 

The irony was not lost on him. He was always one step behind, it seemed. 

Then a cold spear of fear shot through him when he remembered the knocking. The knocking, from Kylo’s door. Where was he? Was he here, too? Was he – had – had he... failed and...

His knees did move, then, pulling closer to his gut as a wave of nausea rocked him. Quite aside from the professional pride most thoroughly injured, he found he... he really wanted to know Kylo was okay. Sure, the man was an argumentative and stubborn shit, and he had gotten almost everything in life handed to him, but he – Hux kind of... 

Well, he didn’t want him dead. He wanted precisely the opposite. And although he couldn’t declare he was madly in love with him, he most definitely was firmly in like? Or something. He was good company, and a nice person (with some flaws, of course), and Hux admired him as much as he was aggravated by him, and now he might be dead because Hux was victim to hubris, to thinking he was smarter than he really was.

Fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK.

He could move a bit more, now, and he realised his grimy eyes were starting to let in light. Or maybe his brain was loosened from the fog enough to see again, but it was mostly distant shapes and colours. 

Think. Think, Hux, think.

The smell was gone, which meant he was probably no longer on Toydaria. Even inside the air-conditioned buildings, the scent had lingered.

Off-world. Okay. Ship. Toydaria only allowed ships to land in very small zones, so there’d be less chance this craft took off without anyone noticing. Thus, if anyone _was_ looking for him, there was a better chance they’d be successful. And they would look, right?

Yeah. They would.

He couldn’t feel any injuries, and he didn’t feel ravenously hungry, so it couldn’t have been too long since he was taken. His hands were definitely hitched to his ankles, and there was no wriggle room at all, there. Probably making sure he couldn’t untangle himself from the restraints. 

Smart, but annoying.

“K-kylo?” It was murder to speak, but he had to. 

He waited. He hadn’t even heard someone breathing, but that didn’t mean.

“Are you there?” he tried again.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

He put his head down, and forced his breathing to level out. 

He was completely helpless.

***

Several cycles of sleep-wake-sleep-doze later, Hux had completely lost track of time. Without any reference point, it had become one long, droning mess. 

His stomach hurt with hunger, and his bladder was threatening to rebel any minute now. He’d yelled himself hoarse multiple times, but it had got him no response at all. He’d even tried reasoning with the walls, but it had gotten him nowhere. He did briefly consider trying to hold both sides of the conversation, just to keep himself from going mad, but then he decided against it.

There’d been training, once. For various scenarios. Training for being taken prisoner, for being taken hostage. Training for torture, and for solitary. He’d undergone them all, and he’d even helped refine some of them. It was different in practice to during the role-play scenarios, though. In those, there was no real emotional connection to the situation. No matter how well you tried to climb into the roleplay, you’d always know there was a defined finishing point. Always know it was safe, that you’d walk away from it in the end.

Hux was trying to remember the lyrics to the last song he’d heard to keep himself sane when there was a click somewhere at the other side of the room. He looked up, surprised, and saw the flat panel wall open into itself. 

Outside, the world was brighter and it stung his eyes to be suddenly flooded with light. If there was a figure there, he couldn’t see it. All he could see was golden-white, and then the sound of footsteps and he was pulled unceremoniously onto his knees.

Sort of. His limbs were still hog-tied together, and he thrashed when he felt a hand unbuckling his belt. 

“Stop fighting, or we’ll put a catheter in you,” the male voice snapped at him.

Hux did not particularly want that, so he ceased struggling. The hand moved his clothing aside with clinical ease, and then he was relieved to feel his cock pointed at a section of the wall. Well, sort of relieved. In the technical sense he was, because he – despite the audience – pissed on demand.

But it did mean he’d just pissed in his cell, with a stranger holding his cock. It was, perhaps, the most humiliated he’d been in his life.

The man tucked him away, then pulled him a foot to one side, dropping him down on his left. A plate was kicked into range: small squares of basic sustenance and a carton of liquid with a straw in. He peered up at his captor.

“Any chance you could let me use my hands?”

The man walked out of the cell, the door closing, leaving Hux in relative darkness.

But with a tray. With some food. And a straw. And no longer the need to urinate. So... it was some progress.

Plus, straws were useful things. If he could conceal he’d stolen it, or even just use it before they replaced the tray, he might manage to pick the locks on his ankles and wrists. Assuming the straw held up.

Assuming.

It was better than nothing.


	13. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Hux is questioned.

From the meals, he’d been here a number of days. His face was scratchy with beard, his arms and legs ached and throbbed when they weren’t outright numb, and if he ever got out of here, he was going to need some serious physical therapy to recover from this. 

Hux still had no idea why they were keeping him alive. He assumed it was the First Order who had kidnapped him, but they’d given him no indication. No demands, no threats, no questions.

If there’d been questions, he could at least have inferred why they needed the answers. This was worse. It was worse because his mind could make up a myriad harder answers to why he was here, and also he had that terrible, lingering doubt: what if they meant to keep him forever? He barely took up much in the way of upkeep. A few meals, some shovelling of his shit, and a tiny bit of contact to let him soil the room or muck him out. 

They might leave him here forever. Or – worse – they might be found out, or attacked, or leave... and leave him here to die on his own. Just stop coming. Leave him in his own effluence. Leave him, and...

Another click, and he stared as a bulkier male walked in. He was hauled upright, and then he saw there was a holorecorder in someone’s hand. He squinted at it, confused.

“Say hello for the audience,” the man hefting him aloft instructed.

“Go to hell,” Hux replied.

Maybe not the most political of answers, ever. He felt a crack to the back of his head and hissed in pain. It was the sharp, present type of pain, which was somehow better than the longer-term aches and throbs.

“Look at this message,” the voice barked. 

He didn’t want to, but his head was forced front and centre with a rough hand under his jaw, pressing into the space where upper and lower met. 

“Read it.”

His eyes went up to see... oh. It was a string of lyrics. Or it looked like lyrics, and as his eyes skimmed over, he realised it was one of the songs from the show Kylo had taken him to. Either his captors were trying to mess with his head, or Kylo was trying to get a message to him by using a cunning proof of life method.

He hoped it was the latter, he really did. Hux swallowed against a sudden hardness in his throat and started reading out the lyrics. He didn’t have time to put any kind of code into it, and they only let him reel off four of the rhyming couplets before he was told to shut up.

Again, not sure if that was good or not. The holorecorder was steadied on a tripod, and he assumed the feed was no longer live. It made sense not to be, because he was hefted from the ground and the restraints connecting wrists to ankles went without ceremony or fanfare. He barely had time to think about it before his wrists were connected to something behind his back, a chain of sorts, and his legs fell uselessly towards the ground.

After so long bound up, his calves were cramped and the movement hurt more than the restraint had; feeling and blood flowing into too-long dormant muscles, acidic burn and freedom playing havoc with his system. He dropped like a dead weight on the end of a plumbline, toes unable to find the ground properly, and he couldn’t stifle the yell as his whole weight fell through his wrists and shoulders. The white hot pain made thinking impossible for long moments, for long thuds of his heart, until the fog in his head allowed thoughts through instead.

Did they have _no idea_ how to handle a prisoner? None? He had to bite his tongue in order to not school them on proper restraints, not wanting to make life any harder for himself. By degrees he put his feet below him, taking some of the weight and breathing _slowly_ to not scream any more.

He hoped they were getting off on this, whoever was in control. 

“Comfortable?” asked the asshole who was clearly the ‘brains’, being less bulky than the ‘brawn’. 

“Could do with another cushion.”

The back-handed slap was – sadly – cliché. Did they have no style here? His face whipped around in response, and he didn’t feel any teeth loose, so he ignored it. 

“You’re going to tell us about Naboo.”

“Oh, please. If you _actually_ wanted to know, you’d have started interrogating me before now. You and I both know that any codes or information I knew anything about have long been changed, now.”

Another slap.

“It’s standard protocol,” he continued. “Within hours of me going missing. In fact, the most urgent codes change at once. There won’t be anything left but the rank order, I suppose. And the flag.”

This time it was a punch to the solar plexus, and he _whuffed_ out air, eyes jamming shut in protest. Don’t let them see it affect you. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don’t. His mouth tasted of salty soup, not blood but the strange sensation after a lack of oxygen. He tried to count to ten inside. Tried.

“...or were you asking for restaurant recommendations?”

The next two came to his kidneys, and he had to bite down on his inner mouth to stop from yelping in pain. He could take a reasonable amount of punishment, but he would rather take none. Perhaps baiting them was not in his best interests, once the checks and balances were done.

Hux hung, swaying, eyes avoiding the holorecorder, wondering if they planned on just sending his breaking point to Kylo. Why else would they film this, unless to show someone? His military intelligence was almost entirely redundant, now, and his only possible use was as a hostage and bargaining chip.

Another crack, this time a booted toe behind his knee, and he hissed in pain as he dropped. 

“I have nothing to tell you,” he threw at them, forcing himself back up. 

Normally hostages were either from wealthy families or companies, or else if they were politically motivated it would be a diplomat who was taken, not a career soldier. Never in his knowledge had the head of an armed force been taken like this, but the normal contingency and negotiation rules would say try to get him back, without exposing the state to ridicule or penalty.

He wasn’t just a career soldier, though, was he? He was the King’s significant other. He was the gay King’s first boyfriend. He was a sexual statement, and a romantic one, and that would not go down well at all. 

If it wasn’t for him still being alive, he would suspect the advice (Leia, and Phasma) to Kylo would be to expose the Order. However, he was also sure Kylo wouldn’t want to risk them executing him. Even if there was next to no chance of retrieving him intact. Kylo wouldn’t accept that as an answer, and he had to hope they’d stop him doing something ridiculous.

Even if he hoped that against his own chances of survival. It was a strange limbo to be in: powerless, and craving his own rescue as well as his own sacrifice. Both for entirely different reasons.

The blows came harder, without the pretence of questions. He paid attention to where they landed, judging technique and positioning. Memorising them, so he would know where he might be carrying internal injuries, and he tried to shut down his body’s responses, coasting out and waiting for the endorphins to flood his system. They came, and he found the silver fish of it in his blood, chasing it out of his mind.

When they were finished, they left him hanging from the ceiling. The holorecorder stayed.

Hux knew he would not sleep that night.

***

Rumbling. Rumbling, in the distance. It was deep and low, like a large craft close to a building. Hux did not have quite the talent to understand the model of ship, but he definitely thought it sounded familiar. The vibrations passed through his cuffs and into his hands, and he wondered why now?

Why was this the first ship? Or the first one big enough? Had someone come to take him someplace worse, or... was it coincidental? Was he simply a background noise, his breathing inconsequential? He’d given up on any thought of rescue. He hadn’t been made to speak on any more videos, but the holorecorder was a constant, threatening observer in his room. 

He was barely holding together. The beatings were fewer, now, but so were the feedings. His arms were constant agony, his legs wasted and wobbly. It had to only have been a matter of – of – weeks? Months? But it was enough that he knew he’d collapse the minute he was unbound. His face was a bushy mess of wiry beard, and he felt weak and will-less. 

Months. Years. No, not years. It felt like it, though. No light-dark, no constant rhythm to cycle his days. Just pain and food and void and pain some more. 

He turned his head idly to the door, and was surprised when it opened to someone other than his tormentors. He was hallucinating, right? That’s why there was... why... he recognised those faces. He struggled when they worked to unhitch him, when the cuffs were unchained but his wrists remained locked together. 

“Can you stand, General?”

He was too dull inside to answer, but a warm arm around his waist kept him from falling.

“Sir, we’re getting you out of here.”

“...w-hu-uh?”

“We’re rescuing you. Hold on.”

This was – was it real? He recognised them, but he could also be hallucinating. _Or_ they could have been moles. _Or_ they could have been bought out. All of these were possible, and he didn’t dare hope for the positive outcome. His legs were all but useless, but instinct drove them to windmill under him, trying for the ground and failing abysmally in the process. A loud noise pulled his attention, and he looked up to see blaster fire in the corridor beyond.

Was it... real? Someone screamed, and that sounded real. He couldn’t be sure yet, though.

“My... hands,” he rasped out.

“Got to get you clear of this building, Sir.”

“Hands. Blaster. Now.” 

It did not come out as sure and even as he had hoped, but it came out, all the same. Hux was gratified to feel fumbling behind his back, then his wrists were unbound for the first time in forever. He felt the familiar weight of a sidearm pressed into his right hand, and he felt instantly better.

“The ship is this way, Sir. We’ve got a narrow window of opportunity.”

“Who sanctioned this mission?”

“Sir. I—”

“Was it the idiot King, or—”

“Sir, I...”

There was a sudden offering of an earbud. He slipped it in, only to hear:

“ _Idiot King? Is that any way to talk about your boyfriend who is currently saving your ass?_ ”

“Kylo, you moron, what were you thinking?”

“ _I was thinking I kind of wanted you home, so if you’d stop dicking around already?_ ”

Which also answered his question of: ‘Is Kylo okay?’ 

A resounding yes. He was pleased.

***

The compound turned out to be a sprawling, semi-industrial park with paramilitary edgings to it. The kind of compound you could build and pretend it was for administration or manufacturing, but secretly run a section of your private security company out of, and secretly swallow prisoners of an undeclared war up whole. 

You know. That kind of compound.

Sections of warehouse-style bunkers (probably huge hangars for craft), sprawling corridor-office stretches (probably actually corridors and offices), and courtyards for air, light and space (drilling, plus craft landing and departure combined). 

This made it, in a way, easier to escape. No obvious external security that exceeded the building’s nominal purpose, and places for the craft they were escaping on to land. Hux hobbled towards the waiting ship, his legs sort of working on pure survival instinct alone.

Hux knew he was in no shape to really fight, so the blaster was mostly a placebo, and he contented himself with dragging his ass around and making as little of a nuisance of himself as he could. The ship’s boarding ramp was down, and he bit his lip at the thought of mounting it. 

Thankfully, someone noticed and an arm was around his waist – his weight lifted almost clean off his feet – and he was onboard and sitting in one of the troop carrier’s moulded seats before he could think to ask for help. He swaddled himself in the safety harness, hands not letting go of the blaster even now. He needed it. It made him feel safer.

The ship took off.

“What about everyone else?” Hux asked, alarmed at the sudden start of their evacuation. He had only seen the one ship, and they couldn’t possibly all be on board, now.

“This is everyone who made it,” the man told him.

Hux... felt cold in his hands. How many people had died for this rescue? How many people had died for him?

“ _General, you better be safe and sound, now_.”

Kylo’s voice in his ear. Tinny, distant, but oh so welcoming and warm. Familiar, if long-absent. He wondered what Kylo had done to find his location, wondered how much trouble they’d be in with the Republic, now. 

It could wait until he’d slept. 

“Safe, yes. Sound... we’re working on it,” he replied.

“ _Get your ass home._ ”

“With pleasure, your Highness.”

The sooner the better. The other people on the ship started to mill about once they burned atmo, and then he was being checked and prodded and medicated and really, he just... wanted a shower, a round of pain meds and a big bed.

The biggest. The absolute biggest. And then he could sleep and lie all across it.

Yes. He needed that.

And... Kylo, too.


	14. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux finally gets home.

He’d been given a soldier’s shower by the time they got home (wiped down, the worst of his stench gone, and mostly the refreshment of being bathed, even if it was embarrassing) but he still needed a bath to end all baths. The ship docked, and he was offered an arm to get up.

Hux did not want to lean on someone. Even if it was essential, and the run from the complex had probably been unwise on wasted and atrophied legs, he just... he’d had his dignity unceremoniously stripped from him in the time he’d been gone, and he just wanted to lick his wounds in private.

That was not going to happen, though. The minute the door opened, he heard a clatter of footsteps and looked up to see Kylo storming on, ignoring all protocol, and stopping in front of him. He looked a little worse for wear himself: dark shadows under his eyes, cheeks a little gaunt... but he barely got a chance to look him over before he had two hands on his face and a mouth full of Kylo.

...he had not expected such an enthusiastic welcome home, but maybe he should have. Kylo kissed him frantically, fingers keeping him still, and Hux put his hand over one of Kylo’s, the other finding his waist. When it broke, Kylo made a snorting noise and pushed their foreheads together.

“...thanks,” Hux muttered. “For... sending people after me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kylo snapped. “But I’m not sure about the beard.”

“Really? I just got back from – how long have I been gone – and the beard is the most pressing concern?”

Kylo slapped him very lightly, an utterly playful touch that Hux had to remind himself wasn’t going to hurt. _Wasn’t. Going. To. Hurt._ He saw the horror on Kylo’s face at his minute flinch reaction, and he tried to laugh it off. 

“Hux...”

“Can... can I get a bath?”

Kylo nodded. “Do you want me to help you get there?”

Not really. But also, he didn’t think he could move without help, so he nodded. “Please.”

***

Inside, the way was cleared delicately, and Kylo took Hux to his royal chambers. He didn’t have the energy to protest, and also he didn’t really want to. He was so bone-tired, and he didn’t want anyone else to see him in this state. 

Kylo made him sit on the biggest couch, and – much to his surprise – bent down to help with his boots. He had to stop being surprised: Kylo had a habit of turning everything on its head, and he didn’t even feel uncomfortable at the thought of his King seeing him undressed, though he’d have rather it was under different circumstances for the first time. He was sure his ribs must be showing, but if Kylo couldn’t love him when he was a wreck, then this relationship wouldn’t last anyway.

Off went the boots, and he helped Kylo pull the shirt off, too. He found his gaze drifting whilst Kylo took stock of the injuries. The medical scan had shown there was nothing permanently damaged, and only rest and gradual rehabilitation was needed. The worst of the lacerations had healed, and it was muscle tone and body mass he needed to regain. Still, he knew he must look like a patchwork of bruises by now.

“What did they... what did they do to you?”

“Can I put it in the report?”

Kylo nodded, and then helped him with his socks and pants. He was left in just his boxers, and he was grateful for the small mercy of distance. 

“I’ll draw the bath. I’ll come back and get you, and then help you in.”

“Thanks, for—”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me. I’ve been trying every day to get you back. I’m sorry it took me so long. I threw everything I could into getting you home again.”

Hux nodded, waiting for Kylo to finish up in the ‘fresher. He pulled his boxers down and covered his modesty with one hand, so he could just hobble into the bath. He felt for the scruff around his face and was a little alarmed by how much of a forest he’d grown. 

“How did you? Get me back, I mean.”

“Phasma did some miracle thing that made sense at the time, but which I have since forgotten, and you will need to ask her to explain, but...”

“Did... did they...” Why was it so hard to ask?

“They sent us demands. And... we got the proof of life holo. And I think Phasma used a lot of that to find you. It involved technology and blasters.”

Hux laughed. “Remind me not to deputise you any time soon.”

Into the ‘fresher, and wow, did Kylo have a nice bathtub. Hux was in awe, and as he was helped into the bubbles he sighed in low relief. 

“...you want me to leave, or...?”

“You... can stay. As long as you’re not expecting to seduce me.”

“I was going to wait til _after_ dinner...”

Hux put his arms on the side of the bath, feeling the hot water knead into his taut muscles, feeling it inch out some of the pain. The water smelled nicely earthy and fresh, and he suspected Kylo had put salves in with the bubbles. 

“So. They made demands. And they said if I didn’t comply, they’d execute you. And they weren’t even _big_ demands, but the Senate said I couldn’t acquiesce. Or it would prove how we weren’t dedicated to truth and justice and democracy and shit...”

“Naturally.”

Which did beg the question... 

“You didn’t, did you?”

“...acquiesce? Fuck no!” Kylo looked annoyed, pushing a hand through his hair. “Even if I wanted to, I knew you’d be mad as fuck with me if I did; and plus, I’d have to abdicate. And we both know how much you love this fucking kingdom.”

“Maybe a little more than you,” Hux agreed. “But... you didn’t cave.”

“You... you’re not mad at me for that, are you? I kept... trying to imagine what you’d counsel me, and... I fucking wanted to, okay. Even if we never amount to anything, you... okay, I care about you. For some stupid reason. I just...”

Hux reached out a damp hand, trying to get Kylo to stop rambling. “I’m not mad at you. If anything, I’m proud of you. You did the right thing... from what I can tell. And I’m alive, and if you didn’t ruin the planet to get me...”

“No. I pissed off a few Senators. And possibly I need to apologise to most of your senior staff for how I spoke to them, but...”

“Thank you,” he said, again. He meant it, he really did. “I’m home now.”

“Yeah. And you’re never leaving my sight for more than ten minutes at a time. Maybe I should implant a tracking tag in you, or—”

“Now you know how I feel.”

Kylo tossed his head, then got up and pecked his lips again. And then sort-of-choke-sneezed. 

“Do I smell that bad?”

“Beard,” Kylo complained. “It’s going.”

“Well... get me a razor, and it will.”

“With pleasure.”

***

Once Kylo was convinced he wasn’t going to drown in the bath, he was given a bit more privacy. Hux shaved his face as cleanly as he could, and massaged his arms and legs in the water. His fingers were pruning by the time he was ready to get out, and he drained the tub, first.

Kylo came back with a towel and a solid body to climb out over, and then Hux managed to towel himself off and fling the simple pyjamas on. Kylo had insisted he’d stay here, and he did have a spare bed in one of the adjoining rooms anyway, so Hux agreed.

Frankly, if anyone wanted to gossip, he could let them right now. He was more relieved to be rescued with all his limbs and mental faculties intact to worry about scuttlebutt. 

He’d been given a dossier with all the pertinent details of his rescue in, from the initial contact to the demands, the counter-demands, and Phasma’s very concise report about his location and the extraction plan.

The demands had been more or less reasonable. He could see how it would have been tempting for Kylo to agree to them, and he could only imagine how hard he’d had to fight his caring nature not to bring Hux home. They’d have become social pariahs, if so. The monarchy would have to dissolve if the King had bowed to terrorist demands over something like this, and it would have been another step towards galactic instability.

In a way, he was flattered. He was, apparently, now so crucial to Naboo that he was a viable target. His body didn’t thank them for the attention, but his ego sort of did. And hadn’t he always wanted power? 

Sitting propped up on the couch, tucked under a blanket, snacks and drinks and pain meds in reach... Hux had been surprised to find the Queen Mother attend him just as much as Kylo had. He’d been thoroughly pampered onto this day bed, and it was even a little disconcerting. 

He was also not supposed to be working. Which was why, when Phasma appeared, he looked guiltily over his tablet.

“Sir.”

“Captain.”

He flicked the dash button on the machine, locked it, and put it on the coffee table. It was not enough.

“General: are you, or are you not, under medical orders to rest?”

“That’s bed rest, Captain, and I—”

“Bed rest includes mental elements.”

“And it’s restful for me to work on things,” he said, trying not to sound like he was wheedling. “If I’m stuck here with nothing but holodramas, I’ll go insane.”

“You’ve got physio exercises, haven’t you?”

“I can’t spend all day hobbling about on sticks, you know.”

Plus, it hurt, not that he would tell her. It hurt a damn lot, and he was frustrated by his slow progress. He lost his temper more than a few times with the stupid exercises. ‘Go to discomfort’ they said, not realising _existing_ was a discomfort. 

“I promised I would brief you about anything important, Sir. But you really have to not complicate the chain of command. It... causes confusion about where the authority lies. And whilst it does, ultimately, lie with you, whilst I am deputising for you...”

Yeah, okay, so she had a point. “Look, I just... don’t know how to do this.”

“Be an invalid?”

He nodded. “It’s so frustrating.”

“Don’t you have a hobby you always wanted to get better at?”

“Doing my job twice as effectively?” Okay, that sounded terribly lame. “I just want to make sure this is properly handled, and – look. I want to make sure we don’t get hit again.”

She nodded, and patted vaguely at his arm. It was about as awkward as comforting touches could be. Phasma really had no bedside manner at all. “And we’ll work on it. I have some more leads, but the doctors said you relaxing and making a note of any more details in your memories would be the best thing for you.”

“...fine. But... you up the briefing to three times a day, and _if_ it’s urgent, I send you a message with thoughts on the briefing.”

“Two times. Unless I deem the information needs to be passed immediately.”

“... _fine_.” It was still less than he’d like, but it was better than nothing. 

“Don’t make me tell the King what you’re doing.”

“Get out,” he hissed, though not with venom, just... exasperation.

“As you wish.” At least she didn’t seem to be hurt.

He was going to paint the walls with his lunch before long. With his hands.

***

Hux woke, utterly disorientated, in the middle of the night. He’d lost his internal compass from all the time in enforced wakefulness, and it was hard to re-adjust to the Naboo cycles (and specifically Theed’s) as it was. He could hear movement in the neighbouring room, and he grabbed the walking stick he’d been given to improve his balance in the short term. 

He didn’t bother checking the chrono, too concerned about Kylo. When he opened the door, he saw the King lying on his belly, thumbs pressing the games controller, hard. His face was bathed in the glow of the screen, but the rest of the room was dark. He couldn’t hear anything, and he realised Kylo was playing with headphones on to minimise sound output. 

Kylo paused the moment he saw him, pulling one earbud out. “Shit. Was I too loud?”

“No, I... I just haven’t gotten over the time lag, yet.”

“You... wanna play?”

“No, but... can I watch?”

Kylo nodded, and got up. He fussed at the pillows, making a little nest for them both. When they were done, Hux lay down next to him. The colours and actions were soothing, and he didn’t feel threatened by the cartoonified violence. 

After a while, he rolled onto his back, and felt a little shift as Kylo pressed against his side. He watched for a little while longer, and eventually fell asleep with the blue dance of light over his face. Kylo gamed for a while longer, then tucked a blanket around him. He was vaguely aware of it, and of a kiss to his forehead, but that could just have been another dream.


	15. Repast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner. And nice clothes.

Hux did not really need to be here, not any more, but he’d gotten used to it. There was nothing untoward about staying in one of the many rooms attached to Kylo’s section of the palatial residence, and he never once felt uncomfortable about it, either. No one screamed bloody murder, the press seemed to mostly be glad he was back in one piece, and then the media frenzy around his return and the speculation into how, why, where, who... it all petered out.

He went back to work. Phasma did a good enough job that he realised he might, eventually, agree to take an extended vacation. Just... not yet. 

One day, as he was leaving to go to a meeting, he bent down to Kylo and kissed his cheek goodbye.

And then stood up, as Kylo had taken it all in his stride and wished him well for the day. Like... like they were an old married couple already. Which... they were? Sort of? He’d moved in, and they had developed a routine, and they ate together, socialised together... and... it was, in a word: _great_. 

It was. He couldn’t lie. He enjoyed it, and he felt secure and relaxed, and not at all terrified even by the fact that he could be kidnapped again at any moment. Okay, so it did still worry him, as did the prospect of Kylo being captured (that scenario was more distressing), but not to the point where he’d trade the last howevermany months to avoid it. 

They were... happy. 

“Kylo...”

“Yes?”

How did he say this, without it sounding weird and creepy? Hmm. He opted, instead, for brushing his fingers through the man’s hair. “Wear something nice, tonight.”

The King looked up at him in confusion for a moment, before a lightswitch turned on. His cheeks darkened as he nodded, just once. “Of course.”

Yes. Hux was sure. He was also sure that Kylo was, too. They’d pretty much proven they could cohabit, so... well. One last test to see if their relationship really would hold water. 

***

So maybe he didn’t focus all day. He was distracted and fractious, and although he tried to force himself to focus, it just wasn’t going anywhere. Eventually, he called it all off as a poor return for his time and went back to ‘his’ room.

To find someone (most assuredly Kylo) had left him a present. In a box on his bed was a beautiful shirt: it was a tasteful dark charcoal colour, soft and slightly sheened. The neckline was a respectable V that would show off his collarbones but not look immodest. A pair of pressed, pristine slacks and... a second box. This one had a contraption he was quite familiar with: Kylo’s hair-dyeing device. A little notecard read: ‘Saw this and thought of you. Don’t worry, no dress code. –K’

Hux was not quite ready to adulterate his own hair, but maybe another time. He took a quick and thorough shower (very, _very_ thorough), and then put the new clothes on. His hair was dried and combed into submission, and then all that was left was the thing itself. 

Thing. Yep. So romantic. Why couldn’t he just think of this like a normal person would?

At a reasonable hour, he knocked on the door to the King’s private section, waiting for him to... oh holy...

Kylo really had dressed nicely. His long, dark hair was gently braided, then clasped loosely behind his head. The clasp was large and intricate, and a thin gauze of goldenweave fell over his hair from it. 

The King had opted for a deep, wine-red shirt, chased with dark metals in thin embroidery depicting the Naboo flower, echoing their flag. His own was high-necked (deliberate?), and it went down to his hands. The material attached to rings around his middle fingers, but cut up on the inside of his wrists. A wide belt accentuated his waist, and around his throat lay a heavy necklace, studded with gems so expensive he could likely buy many small planets with it. His slacks held an iridescent sheen to the black, and his boots were polished shinier than many a recruit’s. 

It was still less ostentatious than some of his formalwear, but man, did he ever pull this off. Unwilling King he might have been, he’d always been at the sharper edge of couture. 

“Too much?” Kylo asked. His cheeks were dusted with the faintest glimmer of gold, his eyelids darkened slightly. Hux couldn’t tell if his lips were glossed or not, or if they just looked bolder against the backdrop.

“Just right, I think.”

Kylo had – rather nicely – had their dining room table made up. Fine silverware, good crystal glasses, nice wine, and nibbly, finger food. Hux did not have much appetite for it, but it helped to soak up some of the wine as they held their usual mini-debrief.

The First Order was reportedly making a move on poorer worlds like Tatooine and less-fashionable planets that were mostly neutral towards the Senate. Hux was sure they hadn’t seen the last of them, both personally and professionally, but at least they would likely have some brief respite, now. 

The alcohol went down, and Hux actually felt a little nervous. Kylo kept fiddling with his wine glass and then his lips, and then glancing up at him. Hux was relieved to see he wasn’t the only one feeling the tension, but he caught Kylo mid-fidget with a fond look on his face. “What are we doing?”

“...eating dinner?”

Hux rolled his eyes, and then cocked his head. “Come on. I want to see how your kissing skills have been doing with me away.” 

“You mean, have I kissed anyone else? Because that would be a: ‘no’.”

Hux was not surprised, but he was also pleased. “Then I’ll need to kiss you twice as hard to make up for it, won’t I?”

Kylo’s tongue flickered out, and Hux realised he probably had to be the bigger man. He rose (legs holding up relatively well), and walked around the table to him. He cupped both hands around his face, thumbs drawing symmetrical swipes, and held him still for the kiss. Without the insanity of the crowd around them, he could take his time.

The King’s eyes closed, and he waited with complete patience, his hands moving to Hux’s waist. Fingers and thumbs curled around him, and wow, they were broad. Really nice and strong, too, and he could think of several uses for them. He parted his lips a fraction, and then licked and teased Kylo’s own mouth wider. He tasted of wine and breaded treats, and Hux licked inside his lips, then over his tongue. Over his tongue, and then he pulled back and smiled down at him. 

“Okay?”

“More than okay.”

“You... maybe want to move to the couch?”

“Think that would be a great idea.” 

Hux lingered for a moment, then slipped his hands down over his face, his throat, then his shoulders. He felt the shudder pass through the younger man as he stepped back. Stepped back, and held his hand out to help him up...

Kylo stood, and then grabbed his hip and pulled him flush against his chest, as though they were about to dance. Hux laughed, and allowed Kylo take some kisses back as revenge, then pranced back out of his grasp. He felt giddy and light-headed as they walked the short distance to the couch. Kylo sat down first, and Hux – being slighter, and less heavy – moved to straddle him. His knees pushed into the couch and he circled his arms around Kylo’s neck.

This wouldn’t work long-term, because he had to wobble on his kneecaps a little, but he could manage for now. He let out a low purr as Kylo got daring enough to start tugging at his shirt, pulling it away enough to slide hands underneath. His fingertips were soft, a man who hadn’t worked them into harsh points. They drew electric sparks across his skin, and he caught hold of the clasp, tugging it free so he could run his fingers through the long, soft tresses. Kylo had very silky hair, and Hux had to admit it felt wonderful. He kissed from the corner of his mouth, then over to his jawline and down the side of his throat.

Hux rocked himself against his lap, moving his weight subtly from back in his shanks and forwards to his core. He pressed against  Kylo’s flat stomach, and lapped at the salt-sweat over his collarbones, teeth nipping lightly in. 

“I’d like to take this off,” Hux said, his fingers playing at the high neck of Kylo’s shirt collar. “Unless you object?”

“I thought you’d never ask, General.”

Hux grabbed the bottom of Kylo’s shirt, pulling it up and easing it over his head and off his arms. He tossed it to one side, and nodded when Kylo went to do the same. 

He’d seen him shirtless, but not where he could really admire him. Broad, broad shoulders and a full torso that could shatter his fists if he pounded against them. His skin was pale and glorious, speckled with beauty spots that looked ideal for tongue or finger to trace... and flush, firm nipples that begged him to lick them. Hux felt a little self-conscious next to this chiselled, sculpted frame... but then he saw Kylo’s eyes drinking him in, a blur of tracking over his body, a poke of tongue out in a half-pant.

“Okay so far?” Hux stroked along the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“ _Fuck_ , yes.” 

“You’re beautiful, you know?” He was sure Kylo _did_ know, but it bore saying. He took a moment to admire further, his fingers chasing the angles of his chest, skidding over his ribs and grazing above his navel. A little treasure trail ran below, and he couldn’t wait to see what was at the end of it.

“If you say so, but I’d rather look at you.”

“Good. If not, we’d have to get a mirror for you to get it up.”

Kylo’s brows arched. “So I could watch whatever’s going on?”

Oh. _Oh_. “Yes.” Actually, not a bad idea.

“Next time?”

Yep. There was going to _be_ a next time, he could already tell. They were just into heavy petting and Hux could feel his prick stirring furiously in his slacks, pressing and demanding attention. Not only that, but he felt this warm fuzziness towards Kylo, and...

“Next time,” the general said, leaning in to pour the words like syrup into his ear. “Next time, a full length mirror. You on all fours, watching as I fuck into you. Over, over, and over. You think you’d like that?”

It was a good job they were sitting down. Kylo’s hands went to his ass, then, and Hux was lifted and used like a ragdoll, rubbed over the King’s lap like he weighed nothing, a frantic need for more friction, for more contact. “Yes, oh, _yes_ ,” he breathed.

Hux could go either way, really: it was all pleasure. He enjoyed a good cock inside of him as much as any gay man (or... woman who liked penis, maybe?) and Kylo _felt_ like a big boy through the material parting them... but the idea of his King on all fours like a bitch in heat, shoving his ass up and begging to be reamed?

Yep. Definitely a nice mental image. He slid a hand between them, fingers cupping him through the sleek fabric. He was achingly hard, too, and – as expected – nicely long and wide. He’d take pleasure in riding that particular stick at some point. “You like that idea most?” he asked.

“...uh...”

Well, that didn’t sound like an ‘uh, I have something else in mind’ and more like an ‘uh, I’ll do whatever you want’. Hux grinned, showing teeth. 

He peeled the button out of the hole, finding the thread of his zipper and walking it step by step down. Kylo held his ass harder, and he rolled his spine to show off, enjoying the warmth. 

“What have you fantasised about most since you kissed me?”

“...l-lots of things,” Kylo said, head turning slightly away.

No. Hux grabbed his face and made him look back, right as he pushed a hand under the elastic of his boxers and sunk it below to find and grab his cock. 

“Tell me.”

“Th-thought about... lots. Thought about...” 

His eyes shut, but Hux could do nothing but admire those lashes like afternoon shadows on his cheeks. His gaze moved under his lids, the motion of memory visible from beneath them. 

He did not need to tell the man to continue.

“...about... sucking... you. Uhm. You... sucking me. And... and... how... fucking would feel...”

“What did you want to try most?” Hux pushed. 

“Uh...” Kylo looked up, and he looked... afraid to ask? “F-fucking?”

Hux had come prepared. He’d intended on seducing him, so he stopped holding Kylo’s cock just long enough to find the bottle of lube that had warmed up by his thigh, low in the pocket. He clicked the cap open, and squeezed in a large amount onto Kylo’s ready dick.

“Here?” the King asked.

“Here,” Hux agreed. It would be difficult, but not impossible. 

Kylo’s cock was silky-smooth under the glide of lube, and he made sure he stroked all along it as he got it ready. His attention was drawn by the spot just below the head that made him whimper, and then he slipped from his lap to push off his own pants and underwear. Kylo was biting his fist, sitting on his other hand to keep them from reaching over.

“You ever played with your own hole before?” Hux asked, letting his cock bob proudly in front of him.

“N-no. Just my dick.”

“I’m going to show you how to do it. The key is to go slow... slow and with lots of lube. No machismo now, or you could hurt yourself or someone else.”

The King took direction well, Hux found. He nodded his agreement, and held his hands out when instructed. Hux poured the first lot of lube out, then moved back into place astride him. His fingers were big, but Hux was confident it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Just one, to start with. Tease, first. Nice and slow, like you’re scrolling a tablet wheel...”

Hands back onto Kylo’s shoulders, he could feel the flex of them as he complied. It was a nice, slick feel and he was soon wanting more. He nodded, and Kylo took the hint. The first finger was his middle one, and it went in smoothly. Hux enjoyed ass-play, and he tugged at Kylo’s hair encouragingly, sliding up to his scalp and then down again. The finger worked into him, as Kylo worked out how deeply he could stroke inside, and eventually the press of his palm to his cheeks said no more. 

He was, also, an intelligent man. The finger swirled inside him, bent and straightened and fucked him by degrees. It wasn’t _nearly_ enough, but it was okay to start off. He tugged on Kylo’s earlobe, pulling and insisting: “More.”

Two. Two fat, full, glorious fingers. The way his hole dragged against them, clutching and tingling... the solid nudge into his inner walls... bliss. He rewarded Kylo with one-handed strokes over his shaft, making sure he kept his attention on point. 

“Does... does it feel good?” the King asked.

“I’ll show you, in due course.”

“.... _fuck_.”

“That’s the idea, yes.”

Kylo jammed the third finger in a little faster than Hux would have expected, but he bore down hard and pressed himself over it, welcoming the mild sting. No – sting was wrong. _Pressure_ was the best word, a knot of it low in his core. He reached behind and grabbed Kylo’s wrist, pulling him out and away. The other had his cock in his grip, so when he rose up he could sink right down onto it.

All. The. Way. Or... all that would fit. He wasn’t sure if he’d taken the entirety of it, but he’d taken all this position would allow. Eyes closed, he started to rock his weight and draw small circles with his waist, not pulling up straight off. He tightened between flexes, and Kylo swore again.

“Good?” Hux echoed. 

“ _Fuck, yes_.” 

Smug, Hux decided to go to town. He didn’t remember if he’d ever had someone as girthy as this before, though he’d certainly played with some over-sized toys. It took a lot of focus to hold on and ride him properly, but he wasn’t going to let a luscious shaft like that go wanting. It would be a crime against humanity not to sodomise himself silly, which is what he tried to do.

Up, up, down, tighten, gyrate, up down up down up down... his nails dug into Kylo’s shoulders as he moved, and he could tell the King was having the time of his life. His expression was one of gawping wonder, and Hux kissed his cheek in appreciation for the moans and hands that roved his body as he worked to bring him off. 

(Oh yes, there was also the issue of barrier control, but – well. Hux was nothing if not thorough. He had his own bloods checked regularly, and he’d been able to confirm the King’s cleanliness, too. Not that he doubted his fidelity, just that he could have been an unwitting carrier of all sorts.)

The dick in him was very, very enjoyable and he’d definitely be riding it again, if Kylo was agreeable. From the sounds he was making, the grabby hands and the face buried in the crook of his neck... oh, this would be a regular occurrence, one way or another. Hux clenched harder, and got a yelp in response.

“C-can’t... can’t... Hux, _please_ , it’s...”

“Don’t think I’m done with you when you come, your Highness.”

“Shhhhhiiiiiiiitfuckfuckfuck!”

Kylo had a mouth on him at the best of times, and Hux was determined to make him scream louder than that. He decided to go all out, holding on for dear life as he bounced himself silly on his cock. Harder, harder, faster... the sound of slick skin-on-skin and the scent of arousal and lube... Kylo clawed at his back, and the sharp sting of it made him clench involuntarily, and that was enough to send him over the edge.

One minute panting, the next... he screamed out Hux’s name as his orgasm hit him, and Hux kept on riding him like there would be no tomorrow, feeling the familiar gush inside of him. Kylo could do nothing but sit there as Hux rode out his climax, nothing but pant and plead for mercy, which Hux didn’t feel like giving. He kept moving until _he_ was satisfied, and then he climbed off.

“...uh... you?” Kylo asked, waving at his ignored cock, ignoring his own that had slipped out, sticky and spent.

“On your hands and knees. Arms on the couch if you need to. I told you I’d show you how it felt to be fucked.”

“But... I...”

“It’ll still feel good, trust me.” It would, because he was going to make sure it would.

Numbly, Kylo nodded and waited for Hux to clamber off him. He moved – awkward-legged – and got onto the ground as instructed. The General had to admire how ready he was to listen to commands (or maybe only from him), and the curve of his back and the little pink hole that was hiding, waiting for him. He thumbed between his cheeks, dryly tugging where he intended to go.

“You still okay with this?” he checked.

Kylo nodded, looking blessed out and pleasantly tired. He parted his legs to show willing, and Hux slobbered lube over his hand. He pressed all three fingers between his cheeks, then slipped the middle one in.

The _sound_ he made was _ungodly_ , and Hux knew he had to hear it a lot more. He wondered if he’d always be so vocal about his appreciation, because – damn. It was one hell of an ego boost, for sure. He only used the one finger, nudging it deep in and fucking him very, very slowly. Kylo rocked onto the balls of his feet and back, doing half the work for him. Watching his digit slide in, watching as Kylo took it, he felt a tug of satisfaction.

This was them. This was _theirs_. No one had ever done this to Kylo – not even Kylo himself – and he trusted and appreciated Hux enough to shove his butt up in the air and ride his hand like the finest of sex toys. He felt the wave crest, and he bent to kiss his hip. “You’re doing so well.”

“M-more,” Kylo stammered out. “Please.”

“I will, I promise.”

“ _Hux, **please**_?” 

“My, you are needy, aren’t you?” He loved the note of despair in Kylo’s voice, though. He’d already come, but he was so into this that he was begging already? Too easy, almost. Two fingers it was, then, and he pushed them in and scissored them wide.

Kylo grabbed a cushion, bit into it, and screamed. It was not a bad scream, because he was still humping thin air before re-impaling himself. Hux rubbed the small of his back, shhing him gently as he tried to angle his fingers to hit – yep.

That made him **yowl** with shock, and he slipped the third finger in, taking him a little more brusquely, now. Having never had sex before, he was sure the stimulation to his prostate would... yep. Stir some interest. He could see Kylo’s already-drained cock trying to respond, and when he reached to stroke it... the man whimpered and the tilt of his hips was a blatant request.

“Are you going to ask me nicely?”

“What?”

“If you want it, ask.”

“What the... fine! Fine. Whatever. Just... fuck me, please? I’m serious, I’ve wanted this since...”

“Our first kiss?”

“Before, you ass,” the King snapped.

“As you ask so nicely...”

He pulled his fingers out, but kept hold of Kylo’s dick. A hand to guide his tip against his hole, and then he gripped the man’s waist and pushed forwards. The fact he’d already climaxed helped keep him nice and relaxed for this, but he was still damned tight. Gloriously tight. It was snug and sure around his own prick, and he savoured the moment as he slid in to the hilt, pushing his balls against him. 

“Oh... oh.... _fuck_ yes,” Kylo rumbled.

Hux agreed. “Tell me if I go too fast,” he asked, then started to move. 

“You could go the speed of light and I’d beg for more,” Kylo muttered, muffled in the cushion. 

“Pretty sure I’d also not be satisfying you, if I did that.”

But he took the point, anyway. Took the point and rammed it in as hard as he could, then started to fuck him in earnest. The hand on his cock turned into a tunnel for Kylo’s stiffening member to ride as he picked his pace up, shifting the angle with each slam in to find the most satisfying for them both. Kylo was a boneless mess under him, all but bouncing with each slap against his thighs, and the sound of their breathing harshing the air. 

“...Hux... fuck, I—“

“Shh.”

“Don’t you fucking shush me just because your fucking dick is fucking... fucking me!”

Hux supposed he had a point. “Too much?”

“No, fuck’s sake, I—ohhhhshityesyes—I, Hux... you... I... it’s you, and I—”

“I know. Together, Kylo. Together.”

He didn’t just mean climaxing, though, and he knew Kylo wasn’t dumb enough to, either. He pulled his hand back to the base of Kylo’s cock, squeezing and milking the dry sensations from him, and kissed the other’s shoulder.

“I—gnfgn—youfuckyesIfuCKYESHUXYES!”

The shudders that rocked him made his body clench around Hux’s cock, and the pulsing was enough to trip him over the edge. He came with a grunt of Kylo’s name, and he held him fiercely against his chest, panting as his balls emptied in him with pulse after pulse, painting his claim and his satisfaction. He could feel the trickle of Kylo’s own ending and lube sliding over his thighs, now, even as he panted until he could calm down.

Their breathing stayed ragged for some time, and then Hux gently let his cock slide out. He wrapped both arms around his waist, kissing wherever he could reach. 

“...you were amazing,” he told him, when he could speak again.  

“Me? Fuck. I just... lay there. _You_ did all the hard work.”

“Most of it, I’ll admit, but you’ll pick it up soon enough.”

“So... we’re official-official?”

Hux snorted. “Don’t you think announcing it to the galaxy and then being kidnapped and used to blackmail you was official enough?”

“This feels more official,” Kylo protested.

“...could we maybe have this conversation in bed?”

Kylo nodded. “If my legs work. Damn, but you’re good at that.”

“Trust me, you were _very_ good yourself. But, if I had to give you points to improve on...”

Kylo hit him. Hux helped him up. They managed to get to the bed before the kissing started, at least. 


	16. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also please see the lovely art that [AuroraLynne](http://auroralynne.tumblr.com/post/148215016857/kylux-apparent-by-aurora-lynne-another-piece) made for me!
> 
>   
> 

Hux spent the night in Kylo’s bed, and slept reasonably well. Reasonably, because the King’s hair did not behave in bed, and would spread everywhere and tickle his nose and cheeks. And also, Kylo squirmed. Squirmed and snuggled and spooned sleepily. One minute he’d be starfishing over Hux, the next he’d shove his butt into Hux’s stomach and want to be cuddled. 

He wasn’t sure if any of that behaviour was conscious, but he could believe it either way. Eventually, when Hux rolled and used a pillow to trap his own arm under his head, he could sling the free one across Kylo’s hip, bend his knees behind the King’s... and Kylo settled for the rest of the night. 

He hadn’t slept with another person in their bed in quite some time, he realised. Longer than he’d thought, now he tried to date it. He’d forgotten about the cramps in your arms and legs, and the sound of their breathing and the occasional cold-ass when the blankets got pulled too far away from you. Still, the warmth against his chest and the affection there, too, made up for the inconveniences. He found himself lulled by the rhythmic exhalations, the whispered noises of air, drifting off to sleep shortly after.

***

When his eyes opened, Hux felt Kylo breathing in his arms and assumed he was still asleep. He was surprised when the taller man turned to look over his shoulder, his expression soft and satisfied. 

“You’re up early,” he said.

“You’re up late,” Kylo countered.

“What time is it?”

“Gone nine.”

Fuck. Hux was going to miss the morning briefing! And! What if he—

Kylo rolled over in his arms, leaning in to kiss his nose. “I think they can manage without you for a day. Or... a morning, anyway. Unless you’re in a rush to get away?”

“No, I just... they’ll wonder where I am.”

“So. No... regrets?”

“Maybe not doing that a month ago?” Hux said, finding Kylo’s hand and twining his fingers between his. “Although my legs wouldn’t have managed it.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think doing it some more would be excellent physiotherapy. So... if you want to recuperate by jumping me regularly, I’ll take one for the team.”

“You’re so generous,” Hux snorted, and kissed Kylo’s nose right back. 

“And waiting... was hard, but. I kind of wanted to be sure, too. I mean, I don’t get as many chances to fuck up as everyone else does.”

“Then just keep fucking up with me,” Hux suggested. 

“That was my hope.” Kylo cocked his head over at the bedside table. “Comm Phasma. She can take over for the day.”

“Alright...” Hux rolled over, and grabbed his device. There was a slurry of messages on it, though, and he looked concerned. “Did you silence it?”

“Yeah. Kept going off.”

“Kylo... you realise it was going off for a reason?”

“You look cute asleep. And I wanted to go back to sleep, too.”

“I have about fifty messages, I’m gonna have to—” He pulled up the most urgent, recent ones and saw they were all from senior officials. They demanded he come the minute he woke and—

A banging on the door made them both jump.

“What is it?” Kylo called out.

“Your Highness, it’s the General! We can’t find him, and we think he might have been ta—”

“I’m fine,” Hux called out, stopping the voice in its tracks. 

“Oh. _Oh._ I’m... I’m sorry, we just thought with you not answering, or being in your room, that...”

“We’ll be in the command suite in fifteen. Please gather the senior advisors in readiness,” Hux said. 

“Right away, Sir.”

Hux turned to find Kylo smothering his face in a pillow. He was shaking, slightly, and he wondered if he’d done something terrible that made him cringe? He put a hand on his knee over the sheets, and then heard what sounded like...

“Are you laughing?”

Kylo pulled the pillow down. His brown eyes were creased and wet with amusement, his mouth wavering between three expressions in quick succession. “I can’t help it. I... honestly didn’t expect one lie-in to cause a scandal.”

“I’m normally very punctual,” Hux explained. “And I _did_ get kidnapped once already.”

“Next time, we’ll hang a sign on your door.”

“Or... just get rid of the door?” Hux asked.

“If you’re prepared for my snoring, then... yes.”

Hux grinned. “I hope you didn’t mind me – ah – outing us?”

“Well, it saves us having to find some way to politely break it to everyone... no. If you’re happy with them knowing...” He reached up his side, to his neck, and pulled Hux down for a kiss.

Hux indulged him, but only briefly before pushing him playfully back. “Later. We have to see what’s got them all so spooked. Some of the messages came in before I was due on duty.”

“Okay. But... later?”

“Oh, yes.”

***

They took a little over fifteen minutes to get there, and Hux had to shower on his own to stop Kylo from trying to jump him again. Any other day and he’d have agreed, and he also probably would have tried to jump Kylo just as badly. Both of them were presentable (if a little out of breath) when they arrived. 

But the moment he saw Phasma’s face, pale and worried, he knew it was bad. The box for his warm, Kylo-shaped affection was promptly closed for the time being, and he snapped to smart attention.

“Report,” he clipped out.

“Sir, it seems there is...” Phasma never looked this worried.

Maybe Hux should have checked the news before he came.

“Tell us,” Kylo prompted. 

“Several planets have broken from the Republic and declared war.”

“...war. Against the Republic?”

“Actually, no: against the Hutts.”

Hux shook his head. “It’s Snoke, isn’t it? He’s pushed somewhere else.”

“I believe there was an attack near Hutt space, a Republic world, the planet asked for retaliation against the Hutts, and the Republic Security Committee denied the request,” his Captain explained. 

“Has there been a call to arms?”

“Not yet, but it’s imminent. There’s a cluster of planets all in open revolt together, they’ve ceded from the Republic and the Hutts have then declared war on both us and them.”

“Both groups? But they don’t stand a chance against us both!”

“I believe they want to force us into a coalition to subdue the ceded planets,” said one of the other officers. Mitaka? Yes, that was his name. “They must believe that the betrayal will sour us to the worlds we lost and galvanise towards them. And they have also hired the First Order as mercenaries, which will boost their offensive capability considerably.”

“What do we do?” Kylo asked.

“We wait to see what the Republic demands,” Hux said, hands drumming distractedly on the table’s smooth surface. “I assume we’ll just be asked to up our internal security levels, increase our checks on incoming flights, and provide troops if there’s a military engagement.”

“I see. Do we have many citizens on the worlds that ceded? What about embassies?” Kylo asked.

“We have three embassies affected,” Mitaka said. “We’re in the middle of negotiating the return of those staff. We have one world’s delegates here, but it might be difficult to arrange for the exchange.”

“Aren’t there _laws_ about this? Like, about not fucking declaring war and letting people go?” Kylo looked... angry. Angrier than Hux remembered seeing him.

“Yes, but they’re Republic laws,” Hux replied. “And once they left the union of planets, they no longer apply.”

“Get me everyone home, or to a safe planet,” Kylo said. “And all my ambassadors and their staff. I don’t want any Naboo national to be hurt because of that asshole.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Phasma said. 

“I’ll help you with that,” the Queen Mother said. “I have some experience with this kind of thing.”

“And if you need people running off-world from some of those planets without anyone knowing,” Han also offered.

“Thank you, both of you,” the King said. “Alright. If that’s all?” he asked, looking around the table.

“Well, other than the fact you both arrived together?” Leia asked.

Trust her.

“Yes, Mom, we’re dating,” Kylo drawled. “And no, it’s none of your business.”

“Well, I just want you to know I’m happy for you,” she said, shrugging, entirely unfazed. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. “But let’s sort this situation out before we make a press release, okay?”

“Although now would be a good time to bury it,” Hux muttered. 

He was not looking forward to any more prying in his life, especially not when there was war on the cards. This... was terrible. He took one morning off, and this happened. 

The galaxy did not want to give him a break.

***

The day went by in a blur. Hux read reports, heard updates, barked orders... he barely saw Kylo at all. The majority of his decisions could be made without the King’s input, and he was busy opining on multiple other strands of government today.

Power. Funny. Once, he would have killed (almost) to sit in that throne, but now he was glad his decisions had to only be about one topic and one topic only: their serving men and women, and their arsenal of weapons and craft. He was sure Kylo (with Leia’s guidance) was busy making all sorts of ridiculously stressful and important decisions now, and he did not envy him in the slightest. 

Hux wondered how you’d even be trained for it? Understanding all the complicated nuances, all the interplay between factions and groups and power systems... it was hard enough running the armed forces, and they – at least – had a stringent set of rules to play by. 

When Kylo finally came back, Hux was sitting on the couch with his tablet still chipping away at things. The King looked tired, and he wasn’t surprised: it was well into the late evening, now, and he doubted he’d stopped since they got showered this morning.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Kylo walked over, leaned over the back of the couch and kissed him quickly and softly, then dropped down with his arms pillowing his head on the plush leather to stay close to eye-level.

“Did you eat anything today?” Hux asked.

“...does caf count?”

“Only in the same way it counts as sleep.”

“...then no.”

“I’ll call for something,” Hux said, trying to get up, finding a hand on his shoulder pushing him back down.

“I’ll do it,” Kylo said. “You stay there.”

Hux knew not to argue with that face, so he nodded. He dropped the tablet down, and waited as Kylo called the kitchen staff and asked for something quick and filling, and then drew one ankle towards his butt as the other leg trailed off the side of the couch. “You want to come here for a bit?”

“Yes. I think I would.”

Kylo wasn’t normally this reserved and distant, so Hux knew it had been hard on him. He gestured him to sit in front of him, and then pulled him to lie his head against his shoulder. The King’s legs swung up and over the far side of the couch, and they snuggled in close.

Hux let his fingers play with the dark hair, stroking gently behind his ears. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “It will.”

“Really? Because it seems like whatever Snoke wants, he gets.”

“Nope. You’re not dead, and neither am I. You’re still in the Republic, and your popularity rate soared after you daringly rescued your boyfriend and didn’t open your state to ridicule or risk.”

Kylo turned his head and blinked sadly up at him. “You... think I’m doing a good job?”

“I think you’re a better monarch than even Luke Skywalker was,” he said, and realised he meant it, too.

“Even though I didn’t want it?”

“Especially then, because you did all those things for the greater good, without wanting to.” Hux dropped a kiss to his temple. “And you’ll get us through all this.”

“I hope so. I just... I wish we’d never got on his radar. Maybe if he’d been messing with someone else instead...”

“He’d still be causing strife for gain, Kylo. If not us, or the Hutts, it would be someone else. And it’s probably good there’s something duracrete, now. We can go to the Senate again with our own information... and see if we can put a stop to his activities.”

“Yeah. I... yeah. Can we just switch it all off, for the night? Just a few hours of us?”

Hux nodded. “I’d like that.”

They hadn’t had much of a basking, honeymoon time today. He knew the stress and worry would be on their shoulders, but it would be easier with Kylo to talk to about it, he thought. Or... talk about other things. The door rattled as the food arrived, and Kylo called them in. 

It was all finger food, and Hux smiled as they wheeled it over to them. They could eat, cuddled up like this. Kylo was a heavy man, but he could manage for a while with him just against his chest. He thanked the staff, and reached for one of the rolls. 

“Have you seen my father since the meeting?” Kylo asked.

“...no. Why?”

“He... uh. Tried to give me the sex talk. For... men. Instead of ladies.”

Hux nearly choked. “...okay. A bit late, but—”

“I think he’s going to try to tell you not to break my heart, by the way. And also probably not to let me be a shit to you.” 

“One of those is more likely than the other.” Hux couldn’t help but be amused at the thought of an old Han Solo awkwardly trying to explain homosexual sex. Then he briefly wondered if Han himself had experienced dalliances with other men, and his brain sort of overheated and stopped in protest. 

“Yeah. I made that face, too,” Kylo said, and grabbed one of the cheese pastries. 

“Do I need to... uh... wear protective gear and hire a bodyguard of my own?”

“No, I think he’ll just puff his chest a bit at you. Try to look suitably serious and sure of our relationship, and he’ll pat you on the shoulder and likely call you ‘son’.”

“...nice to know I’ve already been adopted.”

Kylo kissed his mouth, then, pastry-crumbs and all. “Mom loves you, you idiot. You’re pretty much completely perfect in her eyes, and what she says, Dad agrees with. Eventually.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to be like that?”

“You haven’t been so far, so I don’t think you’ll start any time soon.” 

Kylo picked up one of the stringy bits of sliced meat, and Hux nabbed it with an open mouth right from his hand.

“Case in point.”

He grabbed a replacement, then dangled it over Kylo’s lips. “Only so I can do this.”

“Liar,” Kylo accused, and then opened wide to be fed.

Definitely better than being alone, tonight.


	17. Motivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wants to work out *why* Snoke is doing this.

It turned out that wars were pretty big things. Hux had never – thankfully – lived through one, and although his training told him precisely what to do, and his drills and his regimes and his audits and his contingencies all spoke at length of _how_ to handle it...

None of it went into how damn _tiring_ it was. Because it was. Hux was exhausted, and he hadn’t consumed this much caf in all his life. They weren’t even part of the fight proper, yet, other than the calling ready of the contingent sworn for the Republic. 

Kylo had doubled the promised numbers. 

Hux just couldn’t relax, even when they were alone. It wasn’t remembering what they’d done to him – which, he had to admit, wasn’t fun – but it was... it was the audacity! And the way they seemed to be winning! Did Snoke really hate the Republic, or did he just want to increase his coffers?

After a certain level of wealth, what was more even worth? It wasn’t as if he could cash in on it. You couldn’t _spend_ as much as he purportedly owned. He couldn’t understand it, and what he couldn’t understand annoyed and frustrated him. If he didn’t _get_ it, he couldn’t **predict** or **control** it, and that was a problem. As had been most soundly evidenced, not very long ago.

He and Kylo shared a bed, now, even though they were often too tired to make extra-curricular use of it. They did at times, but often one or both were too tired, and it developed into cuddling one another to sleep. 

Like now. He was so tired he was pretty sure he could _hear electricity_ , but he couldn’t sleep. It was Kylo’s turn to be the big spoon, and his long legs bent behind Hux’s own. A nose at the back of his neck, an arm over his waist.

Comforting. 

But he couldn’t sleep.

Hux considered his situation. He was probably no use to anyone right now, because he might start dictating nonsense orders if he tried to give anyone instruction, but he felt kind of... like he was on the verge of something? Like he could almost see a bigger picture, and he needed to be awake longer. Maybe it was the delirium talking, or maybe he was a stubborn ass, but...

With care, he slipped from Kylo’s snuggling, snoring self and padded into the ‘games’ room. He commandeered the large screen and started pulling up disparate bits and pieces of information.

Things. Things that just didn’t _work_. That didn’t sit right. That itched in his mind. He threw them all up on the screen, then gestured to make them scramble. 

Keywords. Ideas. The jottings of a drunken-tired mind. He tossed them up next to the floating images.

Boil them down.

Think deeper.

Think... think... like Snoke.

He raked through what little there was on him. Sparse official records, minor leaks of communication, sightings, fingerprint smudges around the edges of deals. 

He was almost there. He could feel it. 

Next went up the records from the attacks Leia had identified. He shuffled them all around and put other keywords up.

It wasn’t... it felt... it felt like there was something personal to it. Surely there were better ways to warmonger? Or make money? It didn’t feel like money. It felt like something...

Republic. The war. The war when he’d been a small child, barely able to remember it. He knew peace happened somewhere etched in his memories, but he’d never... it hadn’t made sense at the time, his world-view too limited by his lack of maturity. ‘Peace’, his father had said, but Hux had not been able to understand ‘war’, not for some years to follow.

This felt a little like the history holos said it had been before the last rebellion – the so-called ‘Empire’ which had tried to overthrow galactic democracy.

Hux pulled out more strands: key points, key players, battles, points of debate, newscasts, ideological differences...

The would-be Emperor. Palpatine. He pulled up everything he could, and now the holo-emitters were straining around the room. The screen had long since been buried in the overlapping images floating around Hux’s head. He pulled and pulled and slipped things around until...

A single image. One. A young Palpatine, newly made Senator. A man beside him, younger, less scarred. In the distance of someone else’s moment, talking, out of focus but there.

“Where did you get that?” 

Kylo stepped into the room, his pyjamas ruffled. His shirt had ridden up, exposing his hips, and one leg of his pants was trying to find his knee, the other looking for the floor. His hair was unspeakable.

“It’s part of the records.”

“I’ve never seen Snoke so young.”

So it was him. He was right. This _was_ personal.

“He wanted the Republic gone. He... he seemed to...”

“Be behind the first rebellion?” Kylo dropped onto the couch. Images scattered to make room for him. 

“He dropped from the records. He was around as a young man, then he just... vanished. Only reappeared five years after the rebellion, founding the First Order from disillusioned ex-troopers...” Hux’s head was pounding. “I don’t know why he went missing.”

“He looks less scarred in that picture. Much less. And he wasn’t involved in Palpatine’s grab for power. Could... could they have disagreed and parted ways?”

“It seems a little strange for him to let Palpatine try on his own.”

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he sabotaged him, or... I dunno. There were spies in his camp. Coulda been Snoke.”

“He isn’t going to stop with the Hutts,” Hux said. “It’s too... deeply personal. He wants to wipe us all out.”

“...we can’t tell the Republic this.”

“Why not?”

“It would leak to him. And there’s too many Senators. We... we need to go to the Chancellor, if anyone.”

“Alright. I’ll book us—”

“You’ll come back to bed. I’ll message one of the on-duty staff I trust. But you need to sleep, or I won’t feel safe when we go to Hosnian Prime together.”

Hux sighed. It did make sense. “Okay.”

“Go back to bed. Let me take over.”

Hux – reluctantly – agreed.

***

In the cold light of morning and caf, Hux wondered why he’d gotten himself into some kind of semi-religious fervour. It was a simple thing, to find a photograph. But he felt... he felt like he’d come to some deeper understanding. He’d just felt so out on a limb, but now he felt... connected?

No. He just felt like he maybe understood – if didn’t also feel – some of that great, imperialist, conquering drive. Snoke wanted to spearhead everything.

It was, in a way, chilling. He’d felt something similar about Naboo,  but he’d stopped his forward motion when he thought the issue through. He knew what was involved, and he knew, too, that he could be a real help where he was.

Snoke clearly had his bar set higher, and it made Hux feel a little sick to his stomach.

Onboard the King’s own shuttle, with breakfast still a recent memory on his lips, he compiled the briefing he intended to give to the Chancellor. The head of the Republic had only agreed to a brief meeting with them, and Hux knew he had to get his message across with a punch. Their previous attempts at giving the Republic a view of how dangerous the Order was had been washed out as unfounded.

They agreed that Hux had been kidnapped, Kylo attacked... but they didn’t agree with the attribution of blame. Which was irritating in the extreme. 

It just all rankled. Hux knew it was Snoke, and he knew an irrationally (?) deep hatred of him, and he wanted him stopped. No matter what.

And he was going to argue until he was blue in the face for it.

***

Hux nearly did end up blue in the face. After red. And after reaching for his side-arm, and having to be talked out of threatening the leader of the free galaxy by his royal boyfriend. Who put a hand on his, and kept him from drawing and aiming and maybe even shooting.

No. Annoyed, he might be. Stupid, Hux was not.

“How can they think this is ‘fear-mongering’? We’re at _war_. Did they miss that memo? Because I seem to remember us sending them rather a lot of men and women for it.”

“I don’t know,” Kylo replied, sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed. 

“Why would I make this up? And he’s engineered this! There’s an actual, honest-to-goodness war going on _right now_ and he thinks I’m trying to spread dissent and use the moment for personal, petty vengeance? Has he ever been kidnapped and tortured? Because we could arrange it, and see if he—”

Kylo stared up at him, his expression a little more sharp. Hux didn’t like it, so he went to sit beside him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m frustrated, too. But walls can have ears, remember?”

“Oh. Well. For any surveillance listening: I am not, in fact, going to kidnap and torture the Supreme Chancellor.”

Kylo grabbed his waist, then, and pulled him backwards: throwing his weight towards the bed and using it to barrel Hux along with him. Hux let himself be moved, and then flipped them so Kylo was on his back, and the General moved to straddle him, lying flat-out on top of him. 

Hux found Kylo’s hands, pushing them down into the bed below him, and arched his spine up and away. “I just want to get rid of him.”

“We’ll find another way.”

Hux was close to screaming in frustration, to finding new and inventive ways to explain his irritation, but he decided... fuck it. He could take the night off. It was just a night. He could work out the rest of their problems tomorrow, and maybe he needed to take his mind off it for a while. He was Human, after all, and if he didn’t have a reason to keep fighting...

Kylo, for his part, looked more than open to being ravished. He wasn’t fighting the hands that held his down, even though he was clearly strong enough to toss Hux to the other side of the room. He looked... beautiful, really. Beautiful, and happy. Mostly.

He bent down, wanting that ‘mostly’ to be ‘almost completely’. Kylo deserved to be happy, just as much (if not more than) any other man. Lips grazed under his jawline, over to the front of his throat. A scratch of his teeth, and Kylo _moaned_ his appreciation. That sound sent a shot like wildfire down his spine, and Hux sealed his lips around Kylo’s pulse-point, sucking firmly.

(Yes, it might mark. No, he didn’t care. Kylo wore high-necked shirts a lot, anyway.)

Under him the King tried to pull his hands free, but Hux growled a warning. He wasn’t in the mood to let Kylo call the shots, and when he bit down harder and Kylo _yelped_ it was – it... **Fuck, yes**.

Hux sat back, and his hands flew to Kylo’s belt. “Don’t move.”

The King nodded, and left his hands where they’d been. His eyes were dark and wild, and Hux felt the weight of his desire like a warm hand stroking up his spine. He held the belt up towards Kylo’s wrists, waited for the little nod of assent. Around them, around the headboard, slipping the tongue through the notch, binding him tightly. 

Kylo’s chest heaved with ragged breaths, his eyes drifting shut. Hux sat and watched for a moment, admiring him.

He was all strong muscles and well-defined chest, under the simple low-necked shirt. Collarbones and a throat he loved to lick, and when he started the process of slowly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal what lay beneath, his King hissed his breaths and tried to chase his fingers for the slightest of touches. 

“Shh,” he chided, and finished upwrapping his present.

“Hux...”

“Do you want me to gag you, too?”

From the look in Kylo’s eyes... oh, damn. He did. Hux pulled his own belt off, in a hurry, and pushed it to Kylo’s mouth. No hesitation then, his lips parted to allow the leather in. Hux buckled it behind his head, and made sure it wasn’t so tight it would cut the sides of his mouth. Kylo’s overly long tongue dribbled a little around the gag, and Hux had never imagined he’d _like that_ , but here he was... lightly tied down, his words taken from him, ready to surrender and give Hux complete control.

And Hux... wanted it.

With no words to stop or speed him, just the mumbled sounds of pleasure, Hux kissed and sucked his way across Kylo’s chest. His hands took his weight as he marked fresh paths, tasting salt-sweat and biting hard in places. Kylo’s feet thumped the bed, and Hux shoved a hand in his pants, feeling for his cock.

He was hard. Really hard. Hard enough that Hux sat back to admire it. 

Kylo had a _gorgeous_ cock, and it twitched just a little as he looked down at it. Pink and ready, and he spat down on one hand before wrapping it around. He stroked from his balls up to the tip, passing his palm over the crown, then swooping back down to his nuts. His King tried to rut into his hands, so Hux sat higher up on his thighs. Two hands. Tangled together around him, twisting and twirling their way up together, woven around him. No words, just eye-contact as he worked methodically firm and sure. 

He wanted it. Yep. But he wanted something else, more.

Hux let go of his cock, and slipped off the bed. He slinked out from the room, shedding clothing as he went. Kylo was left tied to the bed, but to his credit he didn’t complain. Not verbally, anyway. Hux came back with the lube, and some improvised rope from spare sheets in the wardrobe. Off went the rest of Kylo’s clothing, and then he tied each of his ankles, hitching them up and towards the head of the bed. A pillow pushed under his hips, and Kylo was entirely at his mercy. 

Oh yes. That was better. Arms and legs restrained, body bent double, mouth full and watering, eyes wild and his hole on display like a target lit up for him.

He had a very lovely ass. A little smudge of darkness, waiting to be explored. Kylo’s cock curled up over his belly, his balls heavy and full below. Hux met his eyes, and smiled.

“You love this, don’t you?”

He watched the nod, watched the colour flooding to those full, stuffed lips. 

“You want me to take you, don’t you?”

Another nod, fiercer, and Kylo actually _curved_ : offering more of his ass in an open invitation to be taken, plundered, used.

Hux had used handcuffs a few times (who hadn’t?), but he’d never restrained anyone like this before. He was surprised by how the power went to his head, and it was such a fucking trip. He grabbed the lube and squeezed a heavy dollop into one palm. His middle finger swirled into it, coating it, and he held it up for Kylo to see before he moved his hand between his thighs and shoved it in to the knuckle.

Kylo screamed. Into the belt, but he screamed. It wasn’t the scream of the unhappy, _anything but_. His body welcomed the finger, and the King practically humped his hand to get it to move inside of him. Hux didn’t oblige, wanting to see Kylo sodomise himself on his digit before he’d take him properly. The King’s brow creased, and pleading notes broke out.

“When I’m ready.”

More pleading, more writhing... and then he slumped. Defeated. Resigned.

 _Submitting_.

Oh, he was beautiful. Hux slid another finger in, spreading them wide and then using his whole arm to shunt his digits in. The sound of flesh slapping, of lube squelching... of pleasure moaning... His belly was liquid flames, like he’d swallowed a bar and set fire to it. His cock was furiously hard, begging to replace those fingers... but not until he was ready. Not yet. Not yet.

Three. Three, and Kylo was thrashing. His mouth begged without words, his body wracked with wanting. Hux curled his other hand around his shaft and tugged it cruelly, distracting him long enough to slip his hand free and move to kneel on the bed closer to his thighs. Kylo thrashed, kicking and yelling, wanting and waiting... and Hux said one word.

“ _Enough_.”

The King went still. Hux waited half a beat more, then he thrust up and in. One movement, to the root. Kylo’s body took him hungrily, no resistance to his entrance. Just sheer, smooth bliss.

Hux laughed, and bent to kiss around the belt, to tease at his saliva-soaked lips. Kylo’s noises were sodden, desperate and adoring, and Hux pulled him to the edge of the bed. It strained his arms and legs, and must be uncomfortable (if not painful), but with one foot on the floor he could go faster, harder.

Deeper.

He started a heavy pace, hands finding their natural grip on Kylo’s waist. He tried to angle down, to drive against the place he knew would make him lose it, and was gratified when Kylo nearly choked over the belt in his call of bliss. Hux was close, too, but he was determined to fuck the come out of his boyfriend, first.

“You want this?” he asked, again.

Kylo nodded frantically, trying to move, but barely able to do anything but tense around him. 

“You want to come?”

More nodding, and a ‘yes’ through leather.

“You want to come now?”

Kylo **howled** , and Hux laughed. Laughed, and then moved one hand to clench around his cock as he kept up his rough coupling. He fucked Kylo into his hand, into his palm, and when Kylo started to make gurgling noises he took for requests... when his toes and fingers curled up, his belly flexing visibly, his whole body tense... right before he knew he’d come...

“Now.”

He timed it just right because Kylo spilled with a hideous sound of completion, of satisfaction. He came, shudderingly hard, and Hux unbelted the gag the minute he was done, shoving the fingers covered in Kylo’s own seed into his mouth in its place.

His King tried to swallow and suckle, but he was barely with it. Hux kept riding him for the last few ruts it took, then jammed his fingers in all the way into his lover’s mouth as he spilled inside him. It felt like thunder and lightning, like a dam breaking...

...and then he dropped down. Hand out of his mouth, kissing his lips and licking them clean.

Neither of them spoke. Not for a while. Not even when Hux undid his ankles, then the belt holding his hands up. Kylo didn’t lower them at first, then moved them to cuddle him close.

It was... strange. Good, but odd. He’d never felt like that in bed before, and he thought it was something that needed to happen again. A lot.

“Th-thank you,” Kylo said, into his neck, when he found his tongue again.

“Thank _you_ ,” Hux corrected him. “I had no idea.”

“Me either,” Kylo agreed. “But yeah.”

Yes. Definitely. **Yes.** Fuck, but he thought he was in love. And not just because of the restraints, either. He was so fucking enamoured of Kylo... and he didn’t want to let up.


	18. Concession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Kylo has an idea that might just fix everything.
> 
> And then another idea.

Hux didn’t want to leave Hosnian Prime without something, but if they stayed too long they ran the risk of becoming crazies, yelling fear and doom at the steps of the Senate until they were evacuated. The Republic hadn’t wanted to know before war broke out, and admitting to failure after the event would just compound the shame.

How many people did they want to die for this?

Suddenly, he could see – just for a moment – what Palpatine and Snoke might have felt.

Crushed by the red tape, impossible to move on. So many voices in the Senate hall, so many disparate viewpoints, and leaders who wanted to lead, but possibly weren’t the best choices. How _did_ you get anything done?

It was beyond infuriating. Not that he could see a viable alternative, but it still made his gut clench uncomfortably. This was just wrong. 

Hux realised he’d gone a bit too far when his knife went straight through the toast. He looked up to see Kylo’s face drawn in worry, and put down both bread and cutlery. 

“What?”

“I was going to ask the same thing,” Kylo replied. 

“I feel like this whole trip was for nothing. It... all this effort...”

“I, uh, have an idea of my own,” the King said, swirling his juice around in the glass. “It might be stupid. But it might... I don’t know.”

“Kylo, right now, I am all ears. Seriously. You could suggest we mail Bantha dung to Snoke and I’d probably ask ‘how much?’...”

“Okay. So.” The glass went down, and his hands clasped on the breakfast table in front of him. “We know the Hutts have hired the First Order, which makes sense. But it’s also going to cost them a small fortune, and we _also_ know the Hutts prefer money to be theirs, and no one else’s.”

“I’m listening.”

“So, if we can come up with any way for them to _not_ need to pay them, and maybe get more money...”

Hux had no idea where he was going with this, but it definitely sounded like a good start. “So if they are encouraged to fire them, and save money, and also end the war, because it is financially in their favour...”

A nod, and Kylo brushed his hair back behind his ear. “Precisely. Maybe if the Republic could disband the company, and maybe impose fines, or seize the assets and make reparations to the both the Hutts and the ceded states, and bring them back to the fold...”

“You think they’d go for it? Hmm. The ceded sites wanted safety, and if we could get the Hutts on-board to side with them, against the Order as a third party... they’d feel safer, and vindicated by the reparation payments. So far, the wars are only in theory, no one’s truly made a move...”

“So. You think we could do it?”

“I... yes. Maybe. Do you think we should ask for permission to do this under the Republic’s banner?”

Kylo bit his lip, then slowly shook his head. “I think we beg forgiveness, not ask permission. That way, if it goes wrong, it’s just the action of one crazy state and not the whole democratic process dragged through the mud.”

“And... how are we going to get them to sit around a table with us?”

“Dad – Han – has links with the Hutts. And I’m sure we can get the ceded states to come if my mother approaches them.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” Hux said, leaning over to kiss the crumb-rough corner of his mouth.

“That’s because your opinion of me was so low. Anything good is a surprise for you.”

He wished that wasn’t as true as it was.

***

This was very much insane. Hux could feel the importance of this moment like the pressure in the air before a storm. No one had yet fired a shot – not since the ‘Hutt’ attack on the ex-Republic worlds. It had all been saber-rattling and posturing, with demands and counter-demands flying, and soldiers stepping up, but not engaging.

It was delicate, because he was sure any day now that Snoke would push hard enough for everything to topple. 

It also felt... well. Strange. That a one-off meeting like this, negotiated hard to even happen, could save so many lives. Although the Queen Mother was very much an experienced diplomatic tongue, her husband was a shipping magnate, her son played videogames late into the night, and he was trained to fight wars, not... really to prevent them through talking and behind-the-scenes coercion. 

Here they were. The holo-feeds hadn’t engaged yet, but it would happen, soon.

Hux was not sure why they were letting Han in on this. He thought he was more persuasive than he actually was, although maybe everyone could use him as a butt-monkey and look down on him, and feel better about themselves? It wasn’t as if he was – well – _dumb_ : it was just that Han Solo thought he was a smooth customer, and was kind of rough around the edges, instead.

“Remember to let me do most of the talking,” Leia told them, impossibly perfect in her smart, sharp clothes. She never had a single hair out of place, never a crease out of line. It was surreal, and he only hoped he could be half as dignified and respectable as she was, when he reached her age.

(He also wanted to reach – and exceed – her age. Please and thank you.)

“You know this was my idea?” the King asked.

“And it was a very good idea, but this is something you can still learn from me.”

“If I have something to say, I’ll say it.”

Hux looked over. Kylo wasn’t being aggressive, just firm and assertive. He was pressing his own skills, but not to be petty.

Leia nodded. “Very well. You’re getting much better at this. I’m proud of you.”

Hux could not agree more.

“Leia, they’re ready,” Han said. “Shall I punch it through?”

“Please.”

***

Hux stood just to the left of and behind Kylo. Leia was front and centre, with Kylo only just to her left. Han – of course – leaned against the nearest pillar.

It was a surreal family bonding experience, and Hux was hit – suddenly – with the knowledge that this _would_ be his extended family, if he married into it. A short, proud, smart woman and a man who clearly gave Kylo his sly tongue. He could learn to live with that. They had their flaws, but they had a lot more going for them.

“Gorga Desilijic Aarrpo,” she greeted the head Hutt by his full title. “We’re honoured by your presence.”

“Your smuggler said it would be worth my while,” he replied, his voice rolling over the words. “I am eager to see how.”

“In time, Gorga, cool your heels,” Han drawled.

“And you, Minister Ritchen,” she went on, to the spokesperson for the non-Hutts. “I appreciate both of you coming to this discussion, and keeping it under wraps.”

“Republic’s too cowardly to do this properly?” Ritchen asked.

“This is a private attempt to assist,” Kylo cut in, smoothly. “We are as neutral a party as you will find, to try to avert loss of life, or destruction of property and come to a resolution as quickly as possible.”

“You keep the soldiers out of this, why?” Gorga demanded. “Seems to me like something to hide.”

“From them: yes. From you both: no.” Leia made sure she gave them both equal eye-contact. “The Order orchestrated this war. In order to destabilise the Republic, and reap the spoils of war. But if we expose them for what they are... neither of you lose people, or funds.”

“And,” Kylo added, “...if we can convict them of illegal profiteering and crimes against the Republic and the Hutt clans... we can confiscate their funds as reparations. The ceded states will get their justice for the attacks on their territory, and the Hutts will be exonerated and compensated.”

“You have what proof?” Ritchen was interested, just not convinced. “The Hutts could have done this all. You know what they are like.”

“Slander,” Gorga spit, his tongue salivating over the word. 

“Hold on, there. If it was worth your while to, you wouldn’t think twice, you overgrown slug,” Han said, cocking his head to the Hutt.

“But it isn’t.”

“But it _could be_.”

“And it isn’t,” Han pushed.

“No. It isn’t.”

“See! He said right now he’d invade and kill us!” Ritchen threw back.

“If it was in his benefit,” Hux re-iterated.

“Same difference!”

The discussions went on from there.

***

By the time they’d come to a conclusion, Hux had a headache of epic proportions. He was glad the holo-emitters just transferred light and sound, because he was certain he’d have drowned in spittle by now, if not. There’d been screaming recriminations, slander, genetic disparaging and sexual deviance all brought up before anyone came to the final conclusion.

It was _exhausting_.

And it was _over_.

Just like that.

Well, _almost_ like that. There were still some things waiting to be organised:  the proof positive, for instance. But other than that... the parties had agreed in principle. And now the Hutts were sending their infamously skilled spies into the Order, and if _anyone_ could find a weak spot, or a dark patch in the First Order’s machinations, it would be them.

So. It was only a matter of time.

“It almost feels like it’s not real,” Hux whispered, leaning on the balcony, looking out to the sea beyond. The dark, azure waters lapping at the sandy shore, and the smell of harvests about to come.

“I know. But we did it, I think. Snoke’s going to be put down once and for all.”

“And no one will really know we did it.”

That had been one of the agreements: the Hutts and the ceded states had wanted the kudos and acclaim to go to them, for the history books to applaud their bloodless, civilised conflict. To spin it as an intelligent problem-solving event, and not them launching into war over nothing.

Spin. All of it, spin.

Hux didn’t care, if Snoke went down. The ends were the important thing, here.

He jumped slightly at the feel of a hand on the nape of his neck, a thumb gliding over knots of tension. Fingers gently curled around him, holding him grounded. Hux turned to smile up at his partner, and then found the King’s shirt collar. He pulled at it, demanding soft kisses.

“You did an amazing job, there, Kylo,” he purred, enjoying the feel of his lips under his own.

“I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“But you did it,” Hux repeated, and turned. He put his hands on Kylo’s waist, then, and danced them gently back and forth. “The galaxy is a better place for having you in it.”

“You know I wouldn’t be half the man I am without you helping me?”

“I’ll take credit for half, then. But no more, and no less.” 

Kylo slipped fingers into his hair, and Hux let his eyes close as he enjoyed it. Revelled in the sensation, and kissed at his mouth some more. 

“You... could. You know,” Kylo muttered, nearly too soft to be heard.

Hux pulled back. Hands still on his waist, but far enough to see his face at a focal distance. “Oh?”

“Take half. I mean, the credit, and...”

“Kylo... are you seriously going to ask me like this?”

“Shut up!”

Hux kissed him again. “Ask me properly. My _liege_.”

Kylo let go of his hair, and sunk down to one knee. He looked up, flicking hair back from his eyes. “I... I would be honoured if you would... I mean, I... if I’m not being too forward, I’d... uh, will you?”

It lacked the crucial words, but that was fine. Hux honestly felt his whole self jolt about a foot to the left, and turn three-sixty degrees. They’d been dating only a moderate amount of time, but he _knew_ him, he did. And... yes. Yes. He did want this.

He wanted _him_. With all his flaws and his quirks and his fears and his failures. For the depth of his feeling, for the devotion to his people, for his sheer, bloody _brilliance_ at seeing things how no one else could. For the kind words, gentle hand-brushes, soft kisses, and the way he’d been the most sweet and wonderful lover he’d ever taken to bed. Sex with Kylo was like being loved from all directions simultaneously, and then told how great you were by someone who _meant every word_.

How could he ever say no?

“Of course I will, you oaf,” he said, face split into a beam as he tugged him back up by the hands.

“Really? You haven’t got the wrong end of the stick, or...”

“I’ve got precisely the _right_ end of your stick,” Hux snorted. “I’ll marry you. Just as soon as you finish making it legal.”

Kylo kissed his face all over, then, and Hux laughed at the affectionate little flurries. The promises and more. Now it was official (or would be when they told the galaxy), he couldn’t imagine anyone better.

Kylo. Who’d have thought it. He was going to— _oh shit he was going to be the King’s Consort_. 

He was going to need a _really nice outfit_.

And the wedding was going to blow the galaxy’s socks off.

“Take me to bed,” Hux insisted. “I want to hear you ask me at _least_ five more times tonight.”

“Five? My dick will drop off,” Kylo snorted.

“I’ll stick it back on again. Trust me.”

“...fine, but if I can’t walk down the aisle, you’re explaining why I’m being grav-sledded to my father.”

Hux couldn’t help the laugh. 


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, happy endings happen.

The thing about Naboo was this: no party was ever too big. None. Not one. You could practically cover the planet’s moon in confetti and it would be considered a decent go at an opening statement. Everyone who was everyone got involved, and everyone who wanted to _be_ someone got involved.

And wore the most intricate, involved clothing you’d ever seen on a person. It was a wonder how some could stand without fainting, or sit without puncturing a lung.

Han was the least dressed-up of them all, opting for slightly smarter versions of his usual clothing. Leia wore her hair bound in brilliant tresses, struck through with feathers and gauze, and in a dress that somehow looked both regal and pretty at the same time as utilitarian and bold. 

Kylo’s outfit literally made Hux’s heart hurt. Or his groin. Maybe his groin.

A long, tapering tunic with a high neckline, cut into at the throat, dipping low but only to show the soft lace and tulle shirt below. The shirt was a rich sea-and-electric blue, chased with silver embroidery with abstract hints of the flower that blazed across the planet’s flag. A heavy silver clasp of the same shape, and then buttons that marched in a straight line down over his torso. His waist was cinched by a black leather belt, which had a second, thinner black band around that clasped into another flower, this one trailing bright tails of patterned and coloured fabrics at one hip.

Under that, smart black pants with three bands of silver blood-stripe down the outside of his leg (as a nod to his father), thigh-high boots, and a ceremonial sword at his hip. His hair was caught behind his head in a clasp, more beads strung along the fine tresses, flashes of silver that off-set the rest of his clothing. 

Hux could not _wait_ to rip him out of it.

For his own wardrobe, however, the tailor had pulled out his dress whites and worked with that. To counter Kylo’s silvers, his white was matched by russets and golds. The inner lining of his cloak was a rich, sun-toasted colour, and his own floral badge was in three tones of gold. From his shoulders hung heavy lanyards, the woven coils swaying against him when he walked. 

He’d even consented to flecks of gold in his own hair, but when Kylo had offered to turn it party-mad again, he’d declined.

Some things were best done in private.

The ceremony was as short as they could make it, and the party afterwards was not. 

Many, many speeches and toasts and little bits of cake and other dainty treats later, he found himself on the dance floor, holding Kylo’s hands. The music hadn’t fully kicked in – and wouldn’t until the King nodded – so they had a beat just to get ready, to stand and gaze at one another.

“Everyone’s looking,” Hux whispered. “What if I screw this up?”

“Blame it on me, the drink, or your undying love making you giddy,” Kylo suggested, stepping in closer. 

Hux could feel the heat from where he stood.

“You’d take that for the team?”

“Yeah. I’d take that for the team,” Kylo said, and suddenly took the lead as well.

Hux was delighted. He was a relatively passable dancer himself, but Kylo had never shown quite this level of finesse in their practice dances. Either he’d been made bold by the pressure, or he’d been taking secret lessons, or perhaps he’d held out on Hux. Whatever it was, he felt himself swirled around the floor, a constant back-forth, back-forth, with neither of them ‘leading’ for long. His stride lengthened, finding it simple and natural to fall into beat alongside him, and by the time the song was over... he was staring at the other man with open adoration.

The clapping stopped, and Hux blushed like Mustafar. 

“Come on. Only a few more go arounds and we can leave this party,” Kylo whispered, and kissed the side of his neck.

“I can’t wait.”

***

The minute they could make their excuses and leave, after all the polite thank-you-for-turning-up-and-your-charitable-donation-for-a-gifts, after all the well-wishing and crying men and women (it was their wedding, why were other people crying?), and after all the snapped holo-images and soundbite grabs, they ran.

The honeymoon proper would start tomorrow, as they’d both agreed they wanted their first night to be in their own rooms. Somewhere safe, somewhere they both knew, inside and out.

Hux felt like a giddy teenager all over when he kicked the door shut behind him, then was surprised by the sudden grab of hands to his face. He clutched at Kylo’s wrists, offering his mouth for the kisses that came down in a hurry.

Kylo kicked his legs apart, and slipped his own between them. A steady grind, and the General reached up to the King’s shoulders, pulling his grip down and over his spine, finding his waist, and then cupping his cheeks and teasing them apart, even through the black slacks.

“Want you so bad,” he growled, somewhere between kisses and sighs. 

“As much as I want you?” Kylo asked. He hid his face in Hux’s neck, then, swallowing against it, pawing at his neck.

“What is it?”

“...want... want us both. Both to do it. Like... half and half.” 

Equal. Partners. Hux could understand that urge, and it definitely spiked a fire up to epic proportions inside. “Who first?”

“...want... want you to ride me, but not let me finish. Then fuck me. Please.”

There was little hotter than a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t afraid to ask. Maker... Hux’s eyes glittered in the candles strewn around the room. His King had spared no expense, or done anything but make this evening a decadent, love-fuelled explosion.

“Oh, yeah? How did you want me?” he asked, because he could. “Want me to push you down into a chair, and ride you like you’re a sex toy? Bounce up and down on your dick until I’m good and open? Or did you want me to tie you to the bed, and screw myself on you, there?”

“ _Fuck_ , oh... I... yes?”

Maybe it was hotter when he rendered Kylo speechless. Or it could be fifty-fifty. Either way, his King was now humping his knee in desperation, grinding his bulge against Hux’s leg and making no bones of his – well – boner. 

Hux smirked. “I’m going to strip you, first. And then I’m going to finger myself open, or get you to do it for me, if I don’t feel like the effort. And then I’m going to climb on that gorgeous, gorgeous cock of yours, and I’m going to enjoy every. Last. Inch.”

Kylo actually _whined_. His eyes were dark, and he nodded his consent – or begging? – over and over. “Please. Fuck. Yes.”

“You know what? I might even make you finger my ass while I fuck you. I might make you slip your digits in, where your cock has been, so you can feel it while I ream you open wide.”

Kylo actually let out a little shriek, then, and started to rip the clothes from Hux’s body. His hands didn’t shake, and he unclasped the cloak, first, pushing it down and away. The buttons on his jacket followed, pried open like nuts from a shell, or fruit from a rind. Down, and Hux let Kylo work, admiring his diligence and skill with his stiff and formal clothing.

When his boots and socks were kicked off, Hux stood with his dick almost as proud as he was. He knew – even if he was a little on the svelte side – that he was in good form, and that Kylo _liked_ how he looked. And that was a sudden, bright thrill of realisation: he was proud, and happy, and he could stand here with his balls hanging between his legs and know that Kylo wanted to see this. 

But he didn’t want to be stared at all night. Hux stepped in, and his fingers went to prise Kylo’s things loose. Kylo let him, allowing Hux the lead, his breathing so loud in the quiet hum of the building.

“I love you, you know,” he whispered.

They didn’t say it often, but they did from time to time. Hux liked the sparseness of their admissions, like it gave them more weight. He knew how Kylo felt for him, knew it in the way he’d kiss him before they left for work, or how he’d push the last chocolate in a box towards him, or show him cute (or interesting) articles. Hux knew, and tried to reply in his own ways: a hand against the small of his back when they were close by, or requesting Kylo’s favourite meal for him when he’d had a bad day, or combing through his hair whilst he watched him play a game that wasn’t designed for two. 

Little things. But they said so much to him, and he assumed to Kylo, too.

His King finally bared, Hux put one finger above the other’s heart. He pushed him ever backwards, until Kylo fell onto his ass and elbows, gazing up adoringly at him.

“I love you, too.”

A chest to scratch your nails over, a twin salute of cannon-nipples, an artisan-sculpted torso and a line of hair that slunk down to embrace his beautiful crotch, framing it for his pleasure and consideration. Hux admired the whole package for a while, then dropped over him, kissing his way from his stomach up to his mouth, not rushing his way along.

“Hux...”

“Shh. Lube. Please.”

Kylo grabbed for it, and tossed him the bottle down. Hux poured some out into one hand, then put both palms around his beloved’s full and hungry dick. Stroke, stroke, feeling the pulse shudder through him, from the root to the tip. He clasped both hands together over the head, and twisted them left and right, watching as Kylo’s eyes rolled up into his skull. 

Yep. Still had it. The champagne hadn’t stripped his edge.

The King grabbed for him, and Hux laughingly snapped his teeth just short of one arm. “Don’t rush me.”

“I should order you as my subject to climb on my cock.”

“I should tell you as my _husband_ to wait, and it’ll be worth it,” Hux countered. Kylo could posture all he wanted, because he knew how to flick his thumb just _so_ , and make his new spouse buck like a mad animal.

Kylo’s keening complaint scratched like a bad landing, and Hux glanced to the lube bottle, then up to Kylo, giving him the eyebrow hint. He waited for the man to get with the project, arching a little as one finger slid into him, then two. 

His husband (thinking that would never get old, would it?) had lovely full, long fingers. They slid into him and started to spread, going at just the pace he normally liked them to. He’d gotten much better with practice, and Hux could kneel back and appreciate the attentions, enjoying the tease of it. It was nothing like the main event, but Maker, was it good to be pampered once in a while.

“Enough,” he said, and pushed Kylo’s arm down, moving to straddle his waist. He held onto the King’s cock with one hand, slapping it between his cheeks before he could urge the head inside of him. It was a thick, thick exclamation mark, and oh, but he sighed in relief as it slipped deeper inside. Hux’s lashes tickled his cheeks as he rocked himself on his knees, squirming to get him further in, relaxing and pushing down to make way. 

Kylo had the kind of dick you took your time with. Hux was no idiot, and even if he _could_ take it faster, it would waste the experience. The way each lift and fall of his hips would spear him deeper, make him aware of every last inch of contact between them. He angled his movements, trying to arch and enjoy the stretch and fill better, trying to – _oh yes_ – hit just right. He let a little purr of approval tumble out as he took his pleasure from Kylo, as he wrapped a hand around his own cock and held on tightly to stop it bouncing as he moved.

“You... are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kylo rasped, his eyes soft and doting. Large hands that just curled around his thighs, making him feel grounded.

Kylo meant it, as well. For whatever reason, he’d fallen for Hux. Hux didn’t mind in the _slightest_ , because he was ridiculously in love with him, too. Even with his occasional (and now much less frequent) hissy fits. This man, with his caring, brown eyes. With his lips that were as evil as they were happy. With his heart big enough to try save the galaxy. This man with his wit, his intelligence, his... admittedly very, very attractive body... he’d grown into an incredible monarch, and one Hux was proud to _serve_.

Hux smiled. “Look in a mirror,” he replied, and bent down to land his hands on either side of Kylo’s face to kiss the smugness deeper in. The changed angle sent tingles up his spine, and he pulled his husband’s lip into his mouth, licking his teeth open to slide over his tongue.

“You want to come in me?” Hux asked, when the kiss broke, the words dripped like honey into his ear. “You want to come, and then me fuck you through the aftershocks?”

The strangled, broken noise was all the answer he needed. Hux put his hand over Kylo’s heart, then set to work, wanting to earn his keep. 

The trick was to get Kylo over without making himself spill, too, and it turned into a game of sex-chicken as a result. If he portioned off a little of his mind to the goal, it helped him not get too far gone himself. Tightening as much as he could (and ignoring how it **sparked** inside), he began to bounce up and down frantically.

Two hands found his waist, guiding him, urging him, and tilting him when Kylo needed more. He knew staying still under him would be all but murder, but _this_ was what he’d asked for, and it was what he’d get. It was only right that their first love-making as a married couple should seal the deal both ways, and Hux flexed at the waist, reaching behind him, bowed like a bent girder to grab near Kylo’s ankles.

That was enough. Either the angle, or the display, or the brazen acrobatics of it had Kylo calling his name – his _full name_ – out to the ceiling. Hux smirked in satisfaction of a job well done, the twitching, gushing heat inside. He rode him a few more bounces (grabbing lube for his fingers while his husband wasn’t looking) before he pulled off, and slipped two digits deep into Kylo.

Kylo, to his credit, just pulled his heels up to his ass and offered more. He was still shaking through the aftershocks of his own climax, loose and relaxed, and he took the fingers with no problem. A third, just in case, and then Hux growled at him to roll over.

Ever the smart-ass, Kylo peered up at him. “You’re pinning me down.”

“You’re a big man.”

“It’s rude to throw your husband on the floor.”

Somehow they managed without either of them being evicted from the bed, and then pillows propped Kylo’s waist up enough. Hux straddled him, then moved to lie along his back. They were almost of a height, but he knew he weighed considerably less. Still, he could blanket him almost perfectly like this, and he found one hand under his own, lacing their fingers together and pressing into the bed. 

“Ready?”

“Hux... do you seriously have to—AH!”

It was, of course, tactical. He sheathed himself in with a rut of his hips, pushing up and to stroke deep inside. Lying on top of him like this wouldn’t do for fast and hard, but it definitely meant he could touch more of Kylo. Meant he could nuzzle at the nape of his neck, apologetically. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“...you definitely did,” Kylo laughed.

As promised, he pulled Kylo’s hand back and rubbed it over his own rump, whispering into his ear: “Put your fingers in me, feel what you did. Feel the mess you made, and feel how open you made me.”

A hissing from below, then fingers dipped back in. It was a glorious counterpoint: stubby digits behind, and a soft, gripping hole below. Hux was in heaven, and he rolled between the two sources of pleasure with all he had. He couldn’t work out which was nicest, but then he didn’t have to, did he? More kisses, more whispered nonsense, and he could feel his balls starting to tighten.

“You come inside me,” Kylo begged, turning to peer at him. “Please. I love it when you do.”

“I’m going to,” he promised, grabbing hold of his shoulders so he could move with more vigour. “I’m going to. I’m so close, Kylo... so close...”

The King, damn him, lifted them both up a few inches with a catch of his knees and a hoik of his butt towards the ceiling; which meant Hux could grab around his waist properly and start to jack-hammer in. The fingers in his ass left as Kylo held his position under the pounding, and Hux lost himself in the rhythm and the slide and the sudden, snarling hand around his spine. He needed – he needed – 

“ _Please_ ,” Kylo begged. “I love you.”

Hux wasn’t sure which part of it had him over the edge, all he knew was he was coming like someone had lit rocket fuel in his balls. A sudden yell of victory and happiness – happiness at finding someone so beautiful, kind, (maybe occasionally fucked up, but nothing he couldn’t handle) and giving... someone who pushed him to be the best he could be, and who made him feel wanted and happy, too. Someone who was... who was Kylo. 

His King.

His love.

Hux collapsed on top of him, his cock spent and twitching, nuzzled deep and sticky-good inside of him. Slowly softening, but that could wait. He took his weight a little to one knee, and breathed against his hair.

“I love you, too,” he said, and then grinned when Kylo rolled them to one side. He let his arms and legs be tangled up in knots, and scrunched as close to him as he could.

“I hate to see what we’ll do to the bed on the honeymoon,” his King muttered.

“I can’t wait.” He was sure it would be epic.


End file.
